Rajmael of Clan Lavellan

by Powerslammer

Rajmael is an elf possessed of great pride and an incredible power. Born with a powerful name and a greater destiny, he has lived his whole life by the the Vir Tanadhal. And now he must use his ancient knowledge to stand against forces that threaten his world and everything he loves. Watch as he stands as a Dalish Elf, a Herald and as The Inquisitor. Please, please review.

51. The Path of Memory: Part IV

The Path of Memory: Part IV

Cassandra and her comrades watched in silence as Rajmael kept his promise and immersed himself in the study and dedication to his people's culture and heritage. Countless nights of studying elven lore and language without rest or sleep. They witnessed his dedication to the elven faith when he carved the totems of his gods from wood and stone, and at the beginning and end of every day he would pray before them with the reverence of an initiated brother.

Witnessing Rajmael study the way of the Arcane Warrior was a sight to behold. It started with endless hours of meditation, for the true power of this art came not from manipulation of the Fade, but from certainty and mastery of the self. Learning to control his magic to enhance his physical abilities, and learn the difficult method of self-healing. Instead of manipulating the Fade, he learned to become one with it and his surroundings, giving him the ability to manifest between worlds and make himself incorporeal to physical attacks.

Under Keeper Deshanna's strict tutelage, Rajmael mastered all his senses by meditating on everything around him. As he meditated, the Keeper would have the young hunters throw stones at him from out of nowhere, forcing Rajmael to sense where the attacks would come from. He spent weeks getting belted with rocks, pinecones, and even eggs, but in time, he mastered his sixth sense where each attack was coming from. Rajmael also discovered he had an affinity for lightning spells, which he learned to incorporate with his fighting style.

Just like in Aedan Cousland's childhood, Rajmael's life was dedicated to the mastery of his craft and learning to be the man he would become. Years of studying, training, discipline to keep the promise he made to his parents. More often than not, his days were also accompanied by sharp smacks upside his head from the Keeper because of his incurable smart-mouth, but the two of them maintained a close relationship as student and teacher.

Despite the tragedy that robbed Rajmael of his family, he found acceptance and peace with his new one. Junnarel was a patient and wise man, and did everything he could to impart his wisdom and sense of honor to both his sons. Ariva was a strict woman who had little patience for prankish antics and foolishness, but nonetheless loved Rajmael as if he was actually born to her, just like Nethras.

For Cassandra and her comrades, it was difficult for them to imagine this was the same Nethras they fought against two years ago. This wasn't the vicious assassin whose spirit was broken by the loss of his wife, but a truly happy and warmhearted boy who enjoyed laughing more than fighting. He and Rajmael grew up together close as real brothers. Whenever Rajmael had a problem fitting in or understanding being Dalish, Nethras was always helping him, looking after him, and keeping him out of trouble. More often than not, the two of them got in trouble together. Like Rajmael, Nethras grew strong and proud, mastering the ways of his father to become a great hunter and warrior for their tribe.

Then there was the all-important factor in both Rajmael and Nethras' lives, the one thing they competed for in all things and fought over as brothers: Evanura's affection.

~Four Years Later~

Years had passed since Rajmael had been adopted into Clan Lavellan, and he had found his place amongst them. The Dalish were his people and the clan his family, and he had finally found peace away from the tragedy that brought him to them. Over the years, the clan had dealings with the humans for trade, an aspect of their lives Rajmael was strongly against at first. But Junnarel and the Keeper had taught him that not all humans were the same, and that some were capable of being noble. Despite this, however, Rajmael never forgave the Chantry for what it did to him and his people.

His studies under Keeper Deshanna had paid off and he was well on his way to becoming a true Arcane Warrior. He was well on his way to mastering the core techniques of their style, the self-healing, intangibility, and he even learned to unlock lightning spells. There was just one more thing he had to learn before he could truly master the Dirth'ena Enasalin. Something equally important as wielding their magic. The art of swordsmanship.

Rajmael now stood before the Keeper to finally address this matter.

"Your studies into the ancient arts of the Arcane Warrior have progressed better than I could have hoped. And after years of learning the magic they used, you are now ready to begin studying the other craft that made these warrior mages stand out amongst our ancestors. The way of the sword." Deshanna addressed amicably.

"Great! Do I get a sword now?" Rajmael asked excitedly.

Deshanna almost laughed at Rajmael's question. "As if you were even worthy of tainting any of our Craft-Master's works with your greasy hands. No, first you'll be learning to use this."

Rajmael became crestfallen and his eyes twitched irritably when his Keeper handed him a miserable piece of grass she plucked off the ground.

"You're kidding me, right? How am I supposed to kill someone with a fucking piece of grass, hope the other guy's allergic to it! Ow!" Rajmael's rudeness was quickly silenced by a sharp pain to his head by the Keeper's staff.

"Remember what I said the first day we met, da'len." Deshanna reminded as Rajmael rubbed the sore spot on his head. "Magic is only a tool, just as a sword is only a tool. What's most important is how the tool is wielded. For the Arcane Warriors, mind, body and weapon are all one. The truest masters of this discipline could summon blades from the very Fade to fight in battle. The most basic warrior could create a blade from an object to act as a font, such as sword hilt or something similar."

Rajmael held up the blade of grass incredulously to his teacher. "A sword hilt is one thing, but how is this supposed to be a weapon!?"

Deshanna gently took the blade of grass from Rajmael's hands and held it between her fingertips. Rajmael watched in shocked amazement when she conjured a small blade from the grass made of pure spirit energy, no bigger than a dinner knife.

"This blade of grass is strong. More in tuned with nature, and very full of life. And if you cannot harness the power of this little thing here, you will never unlock the true power of the Dirth'ena Enasalin. Magic, body and weapon must all be one with your own will."

"But how am I supposed to make this piece of grass into a weapon?" Rajmael asked, almost complained.

"Concentrate." The Keeper answered flatly. "Remember, the grass, and anything else is merely a tool. When you learn focus your magic through this little thing here, you take one step closer to master the Dirth'ena Enasalin. Meditate on the grass for a while. I will be back later with your next lesson."

Rajmael sat himself on a nearby grassy knoll and grudgingly assumed a meditative stance. He concentrated as hard as he could, and strenuously tried to summon a blade from the grass. Rajmael stressed so hard he risked popping a blood vessel in his head, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't conjure a blade from the grass. He tried charging his magic through the grass, only to end up burning it. Rajmael plucked up another one, and did the same exact thing, over and over again, leading him only to more frustration until he ripped out and burned half the knoll he was on.

After a couple of hours of getting nowhere, Rajmael fell asleep on the knoll. Then he was suddenly woke up by the sting of a familiar staff whacking him upside the head.

"Glad to see you're taking your studies seriously, da'len." Deshanna said sarcastically, looming over her apprentice. "I'm sure at this rate the Arcane Warriors will be thriving amongst our people."

"Well, sorry for not being perfect, Keeper." Rajmael balked dourly. "What you're asking is practically impossible! No matter how many times I charge my magic through the damned grass, I cannot make it into a blade!"

"It's not about charging your magic, Rajmael. It's about channeling your will through the medium, whether it's a blade of grass or a real sword. But perhaps you need a more practical approach before you begin to understand the more delicate aspects of this discipline."

The Keeper tossed Rajmael a wooden practice sword. Rajmael quickly picked it up and excitedly gave it a few practice swings. Now he would finally learn the real heart of this discipline, the fun part.

"Yes! Now this is more like it!" Rajmael laughed. "So, who will I be sparring against?"

"Like that's even a question." Answered a familiar, melodious voice.

"This should be good." Said another voice.

Rajmael looked behind him to see the very welcomed sight of Evanura. Her beauty flourished with every passing day, and the hard lifestyle of the Dalish did nothing to diminish it. Even after these past few years of being around her, the sight of her still made Rajmael's heart race and his knees weak.

Walking up behind Evanura was his brother Nethras. He too had grown stronger over the years under his father's training as a hunter. Like the other two adolescent elves, he still had yet to earn his vallaslin, but that would change soon enough, when he became a full-fledged hunter.

"Evanura agreed to take a break from her studies with Ariva to help you understand the way of the sword." The Keeper explained. "Go easy on him, da'len. I'd hate to have to explain to his father he died in practice accident."

"Then why's Nethras here?"

"Come now, Little Brother. You know I wouldn't miss the chance of watching you get your ass kicked for anything!" Nethras laughed.

Keeper Deshanna turned around and left the two elven apprentices to begin their weapon training. It became painfully obvious to Cassandra and the others that at this point in his life, Rajmael only knew the barest basic of swordsmanship. Evanura, on the other hand, held herself and her weapon with flawless perfection. Her gravity was perfectly centered, her grip delicate and strong, and she had a very confident smile on her face. It was like comparing a matchstick to a bonfire.

"You know, I really don't wanna do this, Evanura." Rajmael said trying to sound confident. "I'd hate to bruise that beautiful face and ruin your gorgeous smile."

"Oh, that's so sweet, Rajmael, I appreciate your concern, but I'm fully capable of making sure my face and smile remain intact." Evanura replied sweetly, keeping her guard up. "If you don't complete your training, you'll never earn your vallaslin, Rajmael."

"Eh, I'm in no rush. With a face like this, I look just as good without tattoos." Rajmael bragged.

A mischevious smile spread across Evanura's face as she found the perfect way to motivate her sparring partner. "To tell you the truth, I'm an old-fashioned girl, and I would only be able to court a fully fledged member of our tribe. And between the two of you, I could only marry the first one who earns their vallaslin."

That was all the motivation Rajmael needed. "Evanura, I'd fight a rabid great bear with a toothpick if that's what it took to get your hand."

"There's no way he's going to marry you, because I'm getting my vallaslin first!" Nethras challenged and grabbed a nearby fallen oak branch to join in the spar.

"That's fine. This will make it more fun, for me at least." Evanura laughed.

Rajmael and Nethras' motivation, and hormones, kicked in like a mule. The two brother's circled around Evanura like a pair of wolves preparing to take down their prey. Sadly, this particular prey had sharper teeth. Both of them attacked Evanura with everything they had, with every intention of claiming their prize for themselves. Evanura easily parried both their attacks and whacked them both so hard in the midsection that they fell to their knees. Rajmael picked his sword up and attacked again, only to be thrown on his back. Nethras attempted an attack from behind, certain that he would land a hit on her. Evanura ducked beneath his attack without even looking behind, and whacked Nethras three times.

And so it was that Rajmael and Nethras spent the rest of the day getting royally beaten down by the most beautiful girl in the clan, and Evanura never even broke a sweat. To the spectators, meditating on blade of grass didn't seem so bad from where they were standing. And when the Keeper decided that the lesson was over, and Evanura got bored, the two brothers had to limp their way back to their family's tent. Neither one of them were even close to getting Evanura's hand in marriage.

~XoXoXo~

"Damn. To look at him now, you wouldn't believe this was the same guy who killed Corypheus." Varric commented in disbelief.

"Yeah, where're his tattoos? Where's his sword? I mean, I'm not sure I recognize the boss without either of those." Iron Bull agreed.

"Well, we couldn't all be born as towering slabs of muscle, Bull. Some of us are a little more normal than others." Dorian remarked.

"Yeah, right. Like you're even normal." Sera said sarcastically.

"Some of the greatest men in history have had humble origins. I think it's actually quite comforting to know that even Rajmael had to start somewhere." Ranier added.

"These were some of the happiest moments of his life, even the difficult parts." Cole said quietly with a smile on his face.

~The Next Day~

Rajmael and Nethras were sitting beneath a tree, relaxing after the day's chores, and still nursing the bruises Evanura had given them earlier. It was a very good thing Rajmael knew healing magic, otherwise they'd have to get healed by their mother who would lecture in their ears for hours. With their chores done, the two of them decided to just spend the day relaxing.

Then Junnarel's hunting party returned from the forest. They were back much earlier than expected, and even stranger, they had brought no game back with them. This was most troubling. Junnarel was one of the best hunters amongst the Dalish clans, he never came home empty handed. Their father and the other hunters looked harried and worn out, like they had found more trouble than they expected in the forest. Something was definitely wrong. Rajmael and Nethras followed after their father as he went to go speak to the Keeper.

"Junnarel, what has happened? Did you not find game in the forest?" The Keeper asked deeply concerned.

"Oh, there's game to be found, Deshanna. Sadly, a bull wyvern has taken our hunting grounds for its own." Junnarel informed seriously. "And it's a big one."

"How big?"

"It's tracks are the largest I'd ever seen, I almost thought it was a dragon. Keeper, I'm afraid we're dealing with a Snowy Wyvern."

Keeper Deshanna's eyes went wide with shock. "Are you sure of this, Junnarel?"

Junnarel nodded his head in confirmation. "Saw it with my own eyes. As we tracked it, we managed to spot it in the middle of a hunt. It ripped a bronto right in half like it was made of paper. I dare not risk our hunters against such a creature. Keeper, we should move our camp quickly. At the rate this beast is hunting, it'll burn through this forest's food source quickly, and then it might look to our clan as its next meal."

The Keeper sighed a breath of depression. "It's never good to move our camp so quickly, especially when we haven't renewed our food supply. But it seems we have little choice. We'll begin preparations in the morning."

Rajmael and Nethras could scarcely believe what they had overheard. To a pair of teenaged boys, there was nothing more exciting than the prospect of such a beast.

"There's a snowy wyvern here, an actual snowy wyvern!? Remember the stories the Hahren told us about them?" Rajmael asked excitedly. "How they're cousins and rivals of dragons, and how only the mightiest of hunters track them."

"He's also told stories of entire clans being decimated by such beasts. That many a brave hunter ended up as a wyvern's dinner." Nethras reminded. "If Father doesn't want to risk going after that thing, it's probably for the best."

"Aw, that's too bad. I've heard leather from snowy wyvern skin is unlike any other in Thedas. Extremely strong and pliable, as well as beautiful. I've always wanted some for the handle of my sword." Said the beautiful voice that could only belong to Evanura.

Rajmael and Nethras looked behind them to see the object of their shared desire, and all thoughts about the wyvern left their mind. Rajmael was so preoccupied with sweet thoughts of himself and Evanura, he said something that most sane people probably wouldn't even consider.

"Just say the word, Evanura, and I'll get that wyvern's hide for your." Rajmael said, almost drooling. "You could make a handle wrap, a tent, or even a wedding dress, if that's what you wanted."

Evanura started laughing at Rajmael's proposal. It was ridiculous, but so endearing. "Oh, Rajmael, the things you say. You still can't even summon an ethereal blade, the only way you could harm a wyvern is by tickling it."

"Yeah, if he, by some miracle, got close enough to touch it." Nethras chuckled.

"I'm serious!" Rajmael insisted strongly. "Yesterday, I said I would fight a rabid great bear with a tooth pick, going after an oversized gecko can't be any different."

"Well, you have the heart of an Arcane Warrior at least." Evanura smiled. "If you managed to get me that wyvern's hide, I think that'd be worth a hero's kiss."

"Only a kiss?" Nethras asked amused. "I'd think getting that wyvern's hide would be worth more."

"Since it's never going to happen, it's the best deal you'd ever get." Evanura laughed. "Well, I'd best go help pack up for the move tomorrow."

Rajmael should have listened to that little voice in the back of his mind telling him not to do the stupid thing he was thinking about. That taking up Evanura's offer and going after a wyvern even Junnarel wouldn't go after was utter foolishness. However, Rajmael was far too busy fantasizing about what Evanura's lips might taste like to care.

Later that evening, while everyone was busy preparing to leave, Rajmael snuck out of his family's tent and was taking his mother's staff with him. He snuck through the encampment as quietly as he could, taking great care to make sure no one, especially his mother, find out what he was doing. Just as he was about to cross the camp's threshold, he found Nethras leaning up against a tree, waiting for him.

"Off for a little late night jog with Mother's staff, Little Brother?" Nethras inquired with a quirked eyebrow.

"You know what I'm doing, Nethras, and I'm not letting you talk me out of it." Rajmael stated sternly.

"You're really going to risk your life going after a snowy wyvern, all for a kiss?"

"For a kiss from Evanura, I'd go after two of them." Rajmael answered with gusto. "And besides, this is what I've been training for. I'm Dirth'ena Enasalin, Brother. Protecting out people from all threats is what the discipline is all about."

"You still haven't even mastered your abilities yet!" Nethras reminded. "There's no way you can take that thing on yourself. Which is why I'm going."

Now it was Rajmael's turn to quirk an eyebrow. "You'd help me slay the snowy wyvern, Nethras?"

Nethras busted out laughing. "Of course not! I'm going to slay the snowy wyvern and get that kiss from Evanura!"

Nethras yanked on a rope that was hidden in the darkness, and Rajmael realized to late that he stepped in a trap. A lasso hidden in the shadows on the ground gripped around his ankle and yanked him up towards the tree. Rajmael found himself hanging upside down from a tree branch, while Nethras picked up a bow and quiver and ran off into the forest.

"I'll be sure to tell you what Evanura's lips taste like, Little Brother!" Nethras laughed as he ran off after their shared quarry.

"You suck runny nug pellets, you asshole!" Rajmael shouted after his brother. He grabbed the knife in his pocket and cut himself down, then picked up his mother's staff and ran after Nethras.

~XoXoXo~

Cassandra and the others watched in great amusement as the adolescent Rajmael and Nethras practically fought each other for half the night trying to out run one another as they went further into the forest in an attempt to find the snowy wyvern. It was like watching some kind of comedy act between the two of them. Each setting traps for one another that failed miserable or hilariously turned on themselves. It got so intense that even started shooting arrows and magic at each other. The two of them were so distracted by trying to outdo each other, that they never even noticed when they stumbled upon the very beast they were tracking.

The snowy wyvern unleashed an ear splitting roar that could have peeled the bark of a dog. The two elven brothers stopped their fighting, and rather than running like any other apprentice elves would have done, these two stood their ground to fight. There was no way either of them could outrun the massive draconis, they would either fight and die like Dalish warriors, or they would die from their own foolishness, but they would not run.

Cassandra and the others watched in pure amazement as the two brothers fought this terrible beast that even the most seasoned hunters and Chevaliers would think twice about crossing. The synchronization and harmony of their movement were completely perfect, like they knew exactly what the other was going to do. Even as young as they were, it was obvious both brothers had the potential of greatness in them.

Nethras unleashed a hail of arrows on the snowy wyvern from his father's bow while Rajmael used Ariva's staff to conjure bolts of lightning at the beast. Both of them harm their quarry, while keeping at a safe distance. However, there was a reason why snowy wyverns have always been so feared. They were the alpha predators of their domains.

The wyvern spat its terrible venom at Nethras, who barely managed to dodge in time, but his quiver was hit by the corrosive poison and it splashed on to his jerkin. Nethras managed to save only one of his arrows, and to rip his shirt off before the poison ate through the leather and got on his skin. With Nethras virtually unarmed, the wyvern prepared to charge him down and make a meal out of the young elf, if it wasn't for that lightning.

Rajmael cast the strongest lightning spell he could conjure at the wyvern. Unfortunately, Ariva's staff and magic was meant for healing, not combat, and the staff couldn't channels enough offensive power to do any real harm to the giant lizard, but it did really piss it off. The snowy wyvern turned its attention to Rajmael, intent to devour the young elf. The wyvern charged Rajmael down with the force of a stampede, and there was no way anyone could have avoided its mad charge.

However, Rajmael wasn't just anyone, and those endless hours of training under Keeper Deshanna's harsh tutelage paid off. For the first time ever, he successfully managed to render himself incorporeal and dashed out of the wyvern's path like a ghost and dodged the creature's attack entirely. Rajmael was so surprised at what he had done, that he didn't realize where he had dashed, and it was right at the wyvern's tail.

The alpha predator spun like a whirlwind and smashed Rajmael with the force of a battering ram and sent him flying against a nearby tree. Rajmael was dazed, his ribs cracked and broken, he tried to heal himself quickly, but it was too late, the wyvern was already standing over him. He could barely see straight, but he knew the wyvern was opening its jaws for him.

"Rajmael!" Nethras yelled dreadfully. He knocked his final arrow as fast as he could and aimed, praying in the back of his mind that his aim be true.

There was no time for thought, no time to plan, there could only be reaction. Rajmael's instincts took over, and grabbed the only weapon that was left to him: a single blade of grass.

The forest shattered with a horrible shriek that erupted from the wyvern's great open maw, and then the forest was completely silent. The great snowy wyvern fell down dead to the ground with a loud thud from its massive weight. In it's eye was Nethras' final arrow that lodged itself into the wyvern's brain, and lancing through its mouth and out the back of the creature's skull was a blade of ethereal energy held between Rajmael's fingertips, summoned from a single blade of grass.

Nethras rushed over to his brother to make sure he was alright. Rajmael was already using a healing spell to mend his wounds, and he used the same magic to make sure none of the wyvern's venom would effect Nethras. The two of them stared at the wyvern's corpse and gave it a few cautionary pokes to make sure it was truly dead. Neither of the could believe what just happened, what they had accomplished. Two bare-faced da'len actually managed to kill a snowy wyvern.

"I'm seeing it, but I don't believe it." Rajmael said with a shocked smile on his face. "We did it, Nethras! We actually killed a fucking snowy wyvern!"

"You mean I slew the snowy wyvern, and saved your sorry rump while I was at it." Nethras corrected with a sneering grin. "Just look at my arrow, I killed that thing with one shot!"

"You're blind, Nethras! The first ethereal blade I ever summoned killed it, just look at that exit wound!"

The snowy wyvern wasn't even dead for two minutes before the Dalish brothers started arguing over who actually slew it, even though it was impossible to tell. Both of their respective weapons hit the thing at the same time. This went on for a couple minutes before Rajmael realized something important.

"Just how the hell are we going to get this thing back to camp?"

~XoXoXo~

"Even as kids, these two were a pair of badasses!" Iron Bull laughed heartily. "I've seen entire mercenary companies get their asses kicked going after just regular wyverns!"

"Did you see the way they moved? The unison they used? It was like they could read each other's thoughts, knew what the other was doing." Ranier observed. "I've never seen such discipline."

"Both wanted to do this for themselves, but when the other was in danger, they fought as brothers, and as brothers they triumphed" Cole said with a smile.

"Gotta admit, that was a nice shot." Sera commented.

"Trust me, I know from personal experience that a Dalish hunter is worth a dozen human archers." Zevran stated as fact.

"So this is where the Inquisitor first learned to use his abilities as an Arcane Warrior. Most impressive." Vivienne complimented.

"There are mages back in the Imperium who use a similar discipline, no doubt stolen from the elves." Dorian remarked. "But none of them could hold a candle to the Inquisitor."

"Wished my brother would have watched my back like Rajmael's did, instead of stabbing me in it." Said Varric.

"This reminds so much of the days I spent with my brother, Antony." Cassandra remembered fondly. "He would help me everyday to try and become a dragon hunter like him. I would have given anything to have gone on one hunt with him."

~The Next Morning~

"Ma vhenan!" Ariva called to her husband. "Have you seen my staff? I can't find it anywhere."

"Your staff may have to wait, love. Because I can't find either of the boys." Junnarel answered worriedly. "I haven't seen either of them since last night, and they were supposed to help me with breaking the camp."

"That's unlike either of them. Where could they have gone? Could they be with Evanura?"

"No, they're not with me." Evanura answered as she approached her mentor's tent. "I thought I'd come help you with packing, but it's seems your baggage."

"Strange. Where could they have gone? They couldn't have left in the middle of the night." Ariva wondered with worry.

Something about what Ariva said made Evanura realize where they might be. "Wait. No. They couldn't have..."

A sudden uproar of excited voices and scattered movement erupted from the camp outside. Something got everyone moving. Another elf burst into Junnarel and Ariva's tent. It was Sorrin, one of the craft master's apprentices.

"Junnarel! You need to come out here right now." Sorrin urged breathlessly.

"Sorrin? Just what's going on out there?" Junnarel inquired.

"It might be best if you see it for yourself. I just saw it and I still don't believe it."

Junnarel, Ariva and Evanura all left the tent and made their way to the middle of the camp where it seemed the entire tribe was gathering. Everyone was looking ahead speaking in excited voices like someone important just strolled through. When they finally pushed their way through to the front of the crowd, they suddenly realized what had everyone so enraptured, and instantly shared their disbelief.

There they were, Rajmael and Nehtras, sitting on their halla, dragging the massive dead corpse of the snowy wyvern that had been plaguing their hunting grounds. Both of them had a triumphant smile on their face as they dragged the carcass over to the Keeper, who had an utterly stunned look on her face. The brothers dismounted their hallas and presented the snowy wyvern's body like a gift to their Keeper.

In all the years the Deshanna Istimaethoriel of Clan Lavellan had been Keeper of this clan, she had never seen anything like this before. Two bare-faced Dalish apprentices actually managed to hunt and kill a snowy wyvern. Even the most seasoned hunters, like Junnarel, would never have done such a thing. There was only one thing she could do. The Keeper grabbed her staff, and whacked both Rajmael and Nethras on top of their heads, repeatedly.

"Of all the da'len in all the Dalish clans, I am stuck with the most stupid, hare-brained, idiotic, suicidal morons of them all!" Deshanna berated, striking both of them with every word. "What in Mythal's mercy were the two of you thinking!? You could have been killed, and judging from the looks of you, I'd say you almost were."

"We thought that killing the wyvern that was forcing us from our hunting ground was a good thing. Would you rather it force us out before we're prepared to find a new place to live?" Nethras answered sarcastically, rubbing the new knob on his head.

"It was my fault." Rajmael admitted. "Going after the snowy wyvern was my idea. Nethras just came with me to make sure I didn't get hurt, like any brother would have."

"I expected more from a young man who wishes to study the Dirth'ena Enasalin." The Keeper said with great disappointment. "And what, pray tell, drove you to such a foolish endeavor, Rajmael?"

"I'm afraid I'm at fault there, Keeper." Evanura answered and stepped forward.

"Evanura?"

Evanura blushed in front of everyone, but would not hide her own involvement. "I...told them, bet them, more like, that I would kiss the one who managed to bring back the snowy wyvern's hide."

The Keeper was utterly stunned by this, while Ariva was utterly outraged. Neither of them could believe that was the reason these two risked their lives against on of the most dangerous creatures in Thedas. Right now, Nethras and Rajmael were more scared of their mother than the Keeper, and dreaded to think what punishment she was thinking of right now. The glare she was giving them was scary enough to make the snowy wyvern seem like a cuddly puppy in comparison.

"You mean to tell me that the two of you ventured into the woods, behind our backs, against all common sense, and risked certain death, all so you could kiss a girl?!" Deshanna asked in complete disbelief.

"To be fair, Evanura's no ordinary girl, Keeper." Nethras responded and smiled at the object of his affection.

"For her, I'd go after two snowy wyverns and high dragon." Rajmael added dreamily.

Nethras and Rajmael's respective comments made Evanura blush a deep shade of crimson. Both brothers braced themselves when the Keeper raised her staff to whack them upside the head again, but she was stopped when Junnarel calmly stopped her.

"Keeper, perhaps you are being too harsh on my sons." The hunt-master said gently. "After all, thanks to what they did, we no longer need to abandon our hunting ground prematurely, and just think of the uses the craft master and my wife can make of the wyvern's body. Besides, is this not what we have trained them to do? Protect our clan from any threat? And to kill a snowy wyvern deserves praise, not punishment."

The Keeper halted her strike against the two boys, and pondered Junnarel's words for a moment. After careful consideration, she lowered her staff, much to Rajmael and Nethras' relief.

"Very well, Junnarel. But I cannot simply let this matter go. We will discuss what is to be done with them, in private. I trust that won't be a problem for your wife?"

"No. It won't be any trouble at all." Ariva assured with a vengeful look in her eyes. Suddenly, being eaten by a snowy wyvern didn't seem like such a bad idea to her sons.

As Keeper Deshanna walked away with Junnarel to discuss what was to be done to the two of them, Rajmael took the chance to try and make his move on Evanura, she was the very reason they did all this, after all.

"So, Evanura, I managed to get the wyvern and it's pelt here for your sword handle..." Rajmael started, trying to be smooth.

"He wishes!" Nethras interrupted. "I'm the one who shot the damned thing."

"And I'm the one who put my ethereal blade in its skull." Rajmael argued. "Which of us do you think earned that kiss?"

Evanura observed the dead wyvern for a moment and then looked back and forth between Rajmael and Nethras. "Neither!"

Rajmael and Nethras stood dumbfounded, outraged, and a little heartbroken.

"What do you mean 'neither'?!" Rajmael asked in disbelief.

"I'm flattered that the two of you cared so much about the wrapping of my sword handle, but you see, I already bartered for some from the craft master last night." Evanura explained with a flaunting grin on her face. "So, since I didn't actually need this wyvern's hide, I'm not obligated to give you two anything. Sorry!"

Evanura gingerly walked away from them, flaunting her form as she walked over the wyvern's dead body while Nethras fell to his knees with shock on his face and Rajmael groaned in pure frustration. Neither could believe they went through all that for nothing.

"Woman, how do you sleep at night!?" Rajmael demanded in exasperation.

"Completely naked, and rolling around in soft furs, not that you'll ever find out!" Evanura laughed as she walked away.

Rajmael and Nethras' vexation quickly turned into fantasizing. Both of them stared off blankly into their own imagination and tried to picture the image Evanura put into their minds. The thought of her slender, naked body on a bed of furs, gently beckoning to them...

The brothers' mutual fantasy was quickly interrupted by the sharp pain of their pointed ears being forcefully yanked in a vice-like grip, making them both cry out in pain.

"Oh, no you boys don't. Don't you two dare even try to think dirty thoughts!" Ariva said angrily as she grabbed them both by the ear and practically yanked them of their heads.

"But Mother, were weren't, I swear!" Nethras gritted through his teeth as his mother pulled his ear.

"I was." Rajmael admitted, ignoring the pain she was causing him.

Ariva fumed angrily and pulled on her sons' ears even harder as she dragged them away. Rajmael and Nethras did their best to keep up with so that their ears weren't pulled of their heads. "You're going to stop that right now! I am too young to be a grandmother, yet! Since you two like to be kept so busy, you're going to spend the rest of the day cleaning the halla stables!"

"Aw, mother!" Both boys whined, before being yanked off to carry out their punishment.

~XoXoXo~

Evening was fast approaching, and Rajmael and his brother were still at work with the chore their mother punished them with. Shoveling halla dung all day was definitely on their list of crappy things to do, especially since they still hadn't gotten any sleep since going after that damned wyvern. Neither of them could believe they still went though all that for nothing. Evanura had them both wrapped around her finger and she knew it, and they would still do anything for her.

While the two of them continued their menial labor, they talked about various things to keep their mind off the smell and unpleasantness of their tasks. History, philosophy, their favorite color. Then Nethras touched on a subject that drew not only Rajmael's attention, but everyone who was bearing witness to this memory.

"You know, this wouldn't have happened if we had our own land." Nethras stated glumly.

"I think halla shit a lot no matter where you go, Brother." Rajmael responded nonchalantly.

"Not that, Rajmael! I mean this!" Nethras shouted, angrily tossing his shovel away. "Having to scrounge from hunting ground to hunting ground, hoping beasts like that wyvern don't drive us out, or that the weather doesn't go bad, or be discovered by humans. Every day spent living at the mercy of our environment. If we had a place to call our own, we wouldn't need to worry about things like that damned wyvern."

"I understand what you're saying, Nethras, I truly do." Rajmael said consolingly. "But it's not that simple. If we had a land to call our own, maybe things would be different, but then we'd probably be spending our lives fighting to keep our independence from those who would see our culture destroyed."

"Fucking humans." Nethras gritted bitterly. "If it weren't for them, we'd still have a home and the elves would still be a unified people. Sometimes I think the world would be better of without them."

"No one has more cause to hate humans and their Chantry more than I do, Brother." Rajmael reminded, grimly touching the scars under his sleeves. "Don't forget, I used to be a City Elf, and I'd rather live free in the wild where our strength and will is tested to make us stronger, than live in poverty and stagnation that the humans leave our kind in. From where I'm standing, being Dalish is better than owning land."

The brothers stopped their conversation when the hairs on the back of their necks stood straight and the felt the familiar and frightening presence of their mother approaching them. Nethras quickly picked up his shovel and made it look like he was still busy.

"You two! Put those shovels down and go freshen up!" Ariva shouted with a voice that could scare a drill instructor. "When you're done, head to the Keeper's tent, she wants to see you both."

"What does she want us for?"

"That's between you and the Keeper, but I doubt she wants to see you while smell like halla shit. Don't make me tell you twice." Ariva warned dangerously.

Without uttering a word, the two brothers dropped their shovels and ran off to go clean themselves and meet the Keeper. More out of fear of their mother than respect of the Keeper.

~XoXoXo~

When Rajmael and Nethras were done preparing themselves, they made their way over to the Keeper's tent as instructed. To their surprise and dread, they saw that all the clan elders were their waiting for them. There was Keeper Deshanna, their father, their mother and father who were the clan's top healer and hunter respectively. Then there was the Hahren, the Halla Keeper, Hearthmaster, and Crafter. All of the most important members and leaders of Clan Lavellan. And suddenly, Rajmael and Nethras felt like they were entering into a tribunal.

The two elven brothers sat before their clan elders, and readied themselves for their judgment. The Keeper stepped forward from her fellow elders and approached the two youths.

"Nethras, Rajmael, we have been discussing what you have done, and have made our conclusions, and you will have to accept them." The Keeper addressed sternly. "What you did was absolutely foolish! As the sons of our huntmaster and healer, you two should know best that your lives do not strictly belong to you. You are one of us, and every death affects the entire clan. You had no right to risk yourselves over something so juvenile. What if the two of you did die? Do you realize how that would have effected us? And you, Rajmael, should have had more sense than this. Your birth-parents gave their lives so that you might be one of us, and going after a snowy wyvern, which is almost certain death, is a very poor way to honor their memory."

Rajmael's mouth cringed and lowered his head in shame. The Keeper's words dishonored him, but he deserved it.

"As ones who follow the Dirth'ena Enasalin and the Vir Tanadhal, you should have known better. I understand the follies of youth, and that the two of you are eager to put your training to use. The two of you still live, thank Mythal, and what you did saved our clan from needing to leave, and certainly spared us from facing such a danger the snowy wyvern posed. We have taken all these facts into consideration and have decided what to do with you."

Rajmael and Nethras braced themselves for whatever judgment was to be passed on them. Right now, both of them wished they were back fighting that damned wyvern rather than face the clan council.

"Nethras, Rajmael, sons of Junnarel and Ariva, from this day forward...you are no longer da'len." Keeper Deshanna revealed with a smile on her face. "Your elders recognize you as adults in full standing with Clan Lavellan. And tonight, you will receive your vallaslin."

Rajmael and Nethras' eyes were so wide they almost bugged out their heads. The clan elders stood up and applauded the newly recognized adults in front of them.

"You mean, you're not punishing us?!" Rajmael asked with a breath of relief.

"I think what your mother had you do was punishment enough." The Keeper answered.

"Despite your own reasons, petty as they are, you still performed a service for our clan, and more than proved your worth to our people." Ariva smiled proudly. "I was only upset because I was scared for you two, but you have proven to us what you're capable of. I am so proud of you both."

"You did something most wouldn't dare do, and showed us that you two are meant for great things. Such a thing doesn't deserve to be diminished." Junnarel spoke, sharing his wife's pride. "You two will be the youngest in our entire clan to have ever received their vallaslin. Well done, my sons."

~XoXoXo~

That night, when the clan should have been long gone from this area, they now celebrated the unexpected graduation from of Rajmael and Nethras into adulthood. The youngest of their clan to do so. With the hunters now free to bring back game, they managed to bring back a feast for the celebration. Junnarel and Ariva watched with pride as their sons received their vallaslin, dedicated to the elven gods they chose to honor, and declared the path they chose to follow in life. Their mother almost cried as she watched.

Nethras chose to wear the markings of Andruil, the Lady of the Hunt. The forest would be his domain, the bow and his own cunning would be his weapons. Nethras swore to follow in his father's footsteps and become the greatest provider and protector to Clan Lavellan.

Rajmael was bestowed the vallaslin of Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets, Knowledge and Fortune. Rajmael swore to dedicate his life to rediscovering the lost secrets and knowledge of his people and give it back to them. Furthermore, Rajmael pledged his spirit to the elven gods and would follow the original role that all Dalish Keepers once were and become a priest and honor all the Creators.

Reasons to celebrate were few in between for the Dalish, so this celebration went on into the night for Clan Lavellan. Rajmael and Nethras took the opportunity to ask Evanura to share a dance with them. Since this party was in their honor, she did not refuse or play coy with them. The smile on Rajmael's face as he danced with Evanura was the happiest any of his comrades had yet seen in these memories.

Evanura had both brothers on each arm as they walked her back to her family's caravan. All of them talking and laughing as the celebration finally died down. When they arrived, Evanura turned and gave them both a smile of true affection.

"You two had to make my promise that much harder. Now I have two handsome warriors to choose to marry." Evanura giggled, remembering the promise she made to marry the one who got his vallaslin first. She planted a loving kiss on both their cheeks and went back into her family's home.

Rajmael and Nethras stood there with dreamy smiles on both their faces.

"You know something, brother? I could die happily right now." Rajmael said truthfully, trying not to fall over. "All the pain and bullshit I've been through was worth it just for that moment."

"Ah, but you're not allowed to die, Little Brother. Not anymore." Nethras chuckled. "You're an Arcane Warrior to Clan Lavellan now. You and I got a whole lot of living to do after tonight."

~XoXoXo~

And so it was that Rajmael and his brother became the youngest adults in their clan, and they instantly took to their new roles. Evanura eventually followed after her would-be suitors and soon earned her vallaslin. As the years passed, all three of them grew up close and became a distinctive credit to not only their clan, but their whole people.

Nethras quickly caught up to his father in skill and soon rivaled him for the position of the clan's best hunter. He even devised a new tactic to clear out caves and old ruins that were overrun with giant spiders by throwing sacks of burning rashvine into the spiders' lair, and kill them when they inhaled the irritant, poisonous smoke. Nethras' tracking skills and mastery of the bow became so great that it was more like second nature than skill. He soon became a recognized figure within the clan, and it became obvious he would take his father's place on the clan's council.

Rajmael's own skill grew along with his brother's. Soon, there was nothing the Keeper could teach him as he mastered the way of the Dirth'ena Enasalin. Rajmael stayed true to his path and unlocked many of the forgotten skills and techniques of the ancient Arcane Warriors, and did their legacy proud. He honed his mind, magic, and body into one cohesive weapon, and his swordsmanship soon became greater than many chevaliers, because every day in the wild Rajmael's skills were put to the test. As they years passed with his family, Rajmael was able to slowly move on from the traumas of his childhood, and his clan's regular contact with the humans eventually taught him not all of them were the same. Sometimes they were able to deal fairly with humans, other times they were forced to leave or fight them off. Either way, Rajmael still never fully trusted humans.

On Rajmael's eighteenth birthday, Nethras carved and gave his brother that sylvanwood pipe that he is so found of as a present. The one everyone had always seen him smoking. Rajmael would never let it leave his person, and treasured the present his brother made him.

And as the two brothers skill and standing became greater, so too did the woman of their shared dreams. Evanura grew into a majestically beautiful woman. Her platinum-blonde hair now cascaded down her shoulders like a white waterfall. Her frame was slender, firm and graceful, like the halla she loved to ride so much, and not being one for footwear, Evanura's heavenly legs were a distraction for anyone with eyes in their heads. Evanura chose the vallaslin that honored Slylaise the Hearthkeeper, to declare her role as a healer. The tattooing on her face did nothing to obscure her beauty, but rather enhanced it, and made her lovely green eyes shine like emeralds.

Despite her beauty and delicate appearance, Evanura was no dainty flower, but a rose with thorns. She was still the most naturally gifted sword fighter in their clan, and try as they might, even with all their skill and power, neither Rajmael nor Nethras were ever able to best her in terms of personal combat. No mater what they did, she always beat them so badly they looked like novices compared to her. Despite this, Rajmael and Nethras never stopped loving Evanura and did everything they could to woo her.

The three of them left their adolescent years together and entered into adulthood as the pride of their clan. And it would seem that they would all have bright futures amongst their people.

~XoXoXo~

Most people believed that the Herald of Andraste was a natural born leader, a shepherd sent to guide the people of Thedas by the Maker. Almost none of them truly realized that it was the influence Rajmael's people had on him that made him into the man he is. Evanura and Nethras in particular taught him how to become the man they all know him as today. If Rajmael had never become part of the Dalish, he never would have been to the Conclave, and thus never would have stopped Corypheus.

As Cassandra watched Rajmael's life play out before them, she couldn't help but fall in love with Rajmael all over again. She was bearing witness to all the things she wished she had shared with him in his life. His heartbreak, his strength, watching him become the man she came to love so dearly. Cassandra's only regret was that she had never been there with Rajmael, to share in his joy, his sorrow, all the things he had experienced in his life. Perhaps if Cassandra had known Rajmael earlier in her life, understood his wisdom, knew his sense of honor, perhaps she'd have been a better person for it.

Instead, it took a tragedy like the destruction of the Conclave and the near ruination of the world at Corypheus' hands to bring them together, and Cassandra wasn't the most pleasant of people when they first met. Still, the Maker works in mysterious ways. Cassandra was grateful for the time she did have with Rajmael, and considers every moment with him precious.

~XoXoXo~

The Inquisitor's companions watched as the memories shifted forward to another moment of importance in Rajmael's life. He was all grown up now, and looked every bit the man they knew him as, though his scars were still apparent on his body. He and Evanura were out in the forest in small clearing amongst the trees, far enough away from the clan. Judging from the wooden swords that were resting by their halla, they had come here to train, but it quickly became apparent that wasn't the real reason Rajmael invited Evanura here.

After years of endless shallow hints and ceasless flirtations, Rajmael wanted to say what was truly in his heart for Evanura. The two of them had always been close friends, but he wanted more. After growing up alongside her and seeing the woman she had become, how could Rajmael not want more? Rajmael wouldn't flirt or make clever, shallow banter about what he felt. He was here to say what was truly in his heart.

"Evanura, I love you. Ever since I came to the clan and I saw you beat Arren senseless, I've been in love with you. You've been my closest friend ever since we were children, and I cannot help but feel any other way. Please, tell me what I need to do, whatever task or condition you may have, I'll fulfill it. Let me give you my heart. What can I do to make you my wife?"

Evanura didn't play coy or flash him any flirtatious grin of hers. She merely looked up at Rajmael with sincerity in her beautiful green eyes and placed her soft, caring hand on his cheek. "Rajmael, you're one of the most honorable, determined and devout men I have ever met. You weren't born amongst the Dalish, but you're one of the most shinning examples of our people. I will always care for you no matter what, but I cannot give you my heart. My heart belongs to Nethras, it always has. He's already asked me to marry him. I'm sorry that I strung you along all these years. That was cruel of me. I'm so sorry."

Evanura hung her head in shame and couldn't bring herself to look at Rajmael in the eyes. All these years she played with his feelings like they were toys for her amusement, and never once gave thought to how deep those feelings were. Now, here he was, laying his heart bare to her, and she smacked it away. Evanura never felt so filthy in all her life. She expected Rajmael to be angry, to hate her, and she wouldn't blame him. After all, Evanura only broke his heart.

Then Evanura felt Rajmael's arms wrap around her and brought her into a gentle embrace. Not one of passion, but of deep caring.

"There is nothing to forgive. I know my brother, and I know he will give you the life you deserve." Rajmael confessed quietly. "As long as you're happy, I can live that. I wish you both all the joy in the world."

Evanura felt her heart elate and that terrible burden of guilt was lifted from her shoulders. She expected Rajmael to be heartbroken or furious with her, yet here he was wishing for nothing but her happiness. Rajmael's selflessness and sincerity moved Evanura to tears and she hugged him back.

"Thank you so much, Rajmael. You will always be an important part of our lives." Evanura said happily. "Any woman in the world would be fortunate to have you. I know you will find a wonderful woman to share your heart with, and I know you will make her so happy."

Rajmael and Evanura stayed like that for a moment that felt like an eternity to him. He loved her so much and wished with all his heart that he would have been the one lucky enough to have her, but it would seem Nethras was the better man. Yet he couldn't bring himself to feel any bitterness or anger, not for the two people he loved most, but that didn't stop his heart from breaking. There would never be another woman like Evanura, not for him. Who in all of Thedas could he love as much as he did her?

~XoXoXo~

The memory of Rajmael's moment with Evanura faded to blackness. As they stood there, Cassandra didn't know how she was supposed to feel about what they just saw. A part of her was happy that Rajmael didn't marry Evanura, otherwise she never would have had him. Cassandra knew it was selfish, but she couldn't help it. Yet at the same time, she couldn't understand how Evanura could have refused him. After being with Rajmael for the past few years, she couldn't imagine being with anyone else. Even her relationship with Regalyan wasn't this deep. She supposed the heart wants only what the heart wants.

"So how about it, Seeker? Was Evanura right? Are you happy with him?" Varric inquired sincerely.

"More so than I ever thought I could be." Cassandra answered honestly, not even bothering to hide it. "The life of a Seeker is one of servitude and sacrifice, not much for anything else. It feels so wonderful to have someone who makes that life feel bearable."

~XoXoXo~

"EEEIIIGHHHH!"

An ear shattering scream split the darkness and the world came to light in another memory. They found themselves back in Clan Lavellan's camp in the middle of the night. The screaming not only continued, but it intensified and echoed throughout the camp. Screams and sobs of horrible agony, like someone was being tortured. And the pain was only getting worse.

"Holy Maker...! That's Evanura's voice!" Cassandra realized with deathly worry.

Everyone ran after Cassandra as she followed Evanura's screaming voice. She stopped outside one of the large tents on the outskirts of the encampment, and was shocked by who she found just sitting there. It was Nethras, just sitting outside the tent where Evanura was screaming in bloody agony. However, Nethras wasn't merely sitting there for leisure, it was obvious his wife's screams were causing him great distress. It looked as though he was ready to snap at any moment, and his eyes were filled with worry.

Why was Nethras just letting Evanura suffer in the tent behind him? Just what the hell was happening here?

"One more push!" Yelled the all too familiar voice of Rajmael.

Nethras braced himself as hard as he could when he heard Evanura let out a great agonized cry that rang out through the entire forest. Then she stopped, and tears streamed from Nethras' eyes when he heard the wailing of a voice he had never heard before.

"Waahhh! Waahh!"

Cassandra followed after Nethras when he rushed inside the tent, and her breath was stolen from her when she saw what was there. There was Rajmael standing over Evanura as she lay on her bed, exhausted to the point of faint yet infinitely joyous. And crying in Evanura's loving arms was her newborn baby.

Nethras went to his wife's side and gently hugged her and his child.

"Nethras...Nethras you're a daddy!" Evanura proclaimed with happy tears. "You have a daughter!"

"Oh, ma vhenan, she's beautiful." Nethras shared in his wife's joyful tears as he gently took his newborn daughter in his arms. He looked over to Rajmael with deepest gratitude. "Thank you, Rajmael."

"Oh, don't thank me, Evanura's the one who did all the work." Rajmael laughed bashfully. "I just filled in for our mother and the Keeper while they're away."

Both the new parents looked at their new child adoringly as she stopped her crying. Nethras couldn't stop thinking how beautiful she was.

"Look at her, ma vhenan. She's beautiful!" Nethras said with overwhelming joy.

"She's every bit as beautiful as her mother. She's a little Evanura." Rajmael commented, sharing in his brother's joy.

"Little Evanura...I like that." Evanura sighed with exhaustion and happiness as she rocked her baby to sleep in her arms. "She's my little Eva. My da'vhenan."

Cassandra saw the look on Rajmael's face, the emotion in his eyes, as he looked upon the proud parents with the new daughter, and she knew that this was the happiest moment of his life. No victory he claimed in battle nor any achievement he made as Inquisitor compared to this moment. Rajmael delivered the child of the two people he loved most, and placed her in her mother's arms. After the last few years of hardship and heartache, it made Cassandra's own heart soar to see her love so happy.

~XoXoXo~

"Maker's breath...that was beautiful." Dorian sighed and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief.

"Aw, shit. Seeing this...just makes me miss my old Tama." Iron Bull sniffed.

"That little girl is fortunate beyond measure. Not everyone is born into families that love them so much." said Zevran. He regretted that he never truly had such a thing.

"Indeed. The Dalish have more say in their lives than most elves do." Vivienne agreed, which surprised everyone.

"Yeah. Maybe being born elfy ain't such a bad thing after all." Sera said sorrowfully.

"So, that's the little Spitfire, huh? Damn, if she ain't a cutie." Varric chuckled.

"No wonder that little girl means so much to him. The Inquisitor delivered her with his own hands." Ranier affirmed.

Cole nodded his head beneath his hat. "She means more to him than all the treasure and power in the world. Just like her mother did."

"Did you see the smile on his face?" Cassandra observed contently. "Even after our victory over Corypheus, I don't think I've ever seen him so happy. Eva means everything to him. Everything he does, everything he accomplished, he did it for her sake."

~XoXoXo~

The memories brought them to another place in Ramael's past. Rajmael was sitting under the shade of a tree in the middle of spring with his staff resting right next to him. It was a little strange to see him carrying such a thing, even though he was a mage. Rajmael's sword was a key part of his personal image, which made seeing him with a staff like a normal mage seem odd to his companions. Why did he not have it yet?

What wasn't strange was seeing Rajmael pull out that sylvanwood pipe Nethras gifted to him and began smoking it under that tree completely carefree. It had been a while since anyone had seen Rajmael so relaxed.

"You looking for me, Brother?" Rajmael asked, exhaling smoke.

"Yes. All three of us, in fact." Nethras greeted.

Evanura walked forward holding little baby Eva in her arms, and had a bright smile on her face.

"And here she is!" Rajmael laughed and put out his pipe. "Evanura, would you mind if I had a chance to hold my new favorite niece?"

"I think she'd like that." Evanura gently placed her baby in Rajmael's arms, who took her gladly. Baby Eva cooed happily as Rajmael cradled her and made funny faces at her.

As his brother played with Eva, Nethras decided to get to the heart of why he and his wife wanted to meet with him. "Rajmael, Evanura and I have been talking about this lately, and, well, we've made an important decision for our family. And it greatly concerns you."

"All of us have been together since we were children, you've been a dear friend, a brother, to us both, and when you delivered our daughter, you made yourself all the more precious to us. Precious to our daughter." Evanura added proudly. "We want you to dedicate our daughter to the Creators and bestow their blessing on her."

"More than that, Little Brother, we want you to be Eva's godfather." Nethras finished. "You're an irreplaceable part of our family, and we want you to be a part of Eva's life."

Rajmael was humbled beyond words at the honor they wised to bestow him. Amongst the Dalish, being a godparent to a child was an outstanding honor, and an enormous responsibility. It was a bond that ran deeper than blood. By accepting this responsibility, Eva would be like his own daughter. When Rajmael looked at Eva's beautiful face laughing at him, how could he refuse?

"I would be honored to be your daughter's godfather."

Later, Rajmael set up the totems of the Creators he had carved from wood and stone, and set them upon a small shrine he had erected here. As a priest to the Creators, Rajmael made it his duty to always set up a shrine whenever his clan made camp. He held Eva in his arms and faced all the images of the Creators towards, all except Fen'heral, the Dread Wolf. Rajmael placed his hand over the newborn child and bestowed the blessing.

"Eva, da'len tir sulahn'nehn, Ar las enansal Mythal, Sylaise, Dirthamen, Andruil, Elgar'nan, Falon'din, Ghilan'nain, June. May your life be long, your fortunes many and your hardships few. Let Fen'heral never gaze in your direction. Walk well in the paths our Creators left for us, and bring blessings to our people, as your parents have blessed you."

Rajmael placed Eva back in her mother's arms, and Evanura placed a loving kiss on Rajmael cheek while Nethras hugged his brother in deep gratitude.

"There's one more thing we want to give you, Little Brother." Nethras smiled.

Evanura kissed Eva before giving her to her husband. Evanura reached into the satchel she was carrying and pulled out something Rajmael never expected to see. An amulet made of pure amber with a sliver heart-shaped leaf set inside of it. This necklace was made from the sap of a sylvanwood tree, very difficult to make, and very rare. Evanura clasped the amulet around Rajmael's neck and kissed him on his cheek a second time. Rajmael couldn't be more proud than he was right now.

As Cassandra watched Rajmael's memory unfold before her, she unconsciously grasped the amulet around her neck. The same one Rajmael gave to her two years ago. It was the same one Rajmael had received now, when he was made Eva's godfather. She learned years ago that presenting such an amulet was a sign of unrequited loved amongst the Dalish. Rajmael first received it from Evanura and Nethras as a sign of what he meant to them. And Rajmael in turn gave it to Cassandra as a sign of his love for her. The significance of the amulet was almost akin to a wedding ring, a prospect that made Cassandra blush thinking about it.

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael memories moved forward to another point in his life. It was now summertime, though it was impossible to tell how many years had passed. The clan was hidden in a different forest than in the previous memory. Many of the elves, including Rajmael and Evanura, were gathered within a small glade within the forest. But unlike the previous memories, there was no joy to be found amongst the gathered of Clan Lavellan. Instead, there was only loss, mourning, and an underlying current of anger coming from them. The memory felt like a funeral, or a murder scene.

And it was indeed a murder scene, or may as well have been. Sprawled all over the small glen were the slain bodies of over a dozen of the clan's halla. Some had been slaughtered with their hides skinned and their heads cut off. And every murdered halla here was found with their antlers broken off their heads. At the threshold of the killing field was the clan's Halla Keeper on her knees, cradling one of young does in her lap, even though it was already dead. Her face was traumatized and full of grief, for someone to have done this to the clan's halla was the same as murdering her own children.

"I recognize her." Cassandra stated. "When we visited Ramael's clan back in Wycome, she was the one who asked Rajmael to bless her baby. What happened here?"

Evanura made her way through her clan and held her friend, trying to comfort her. "Nehari, I'm so sorry. This is a travesty. Let me help you prepare them for the Journey, so Ghilan'nain will welcome her children."

Nehari hugged Evanura close and wailed uncontrollably into her friends arms. "Why!? Why did this happen!? Who did this!?"

No one, not even the Inquisitor's companions, said anything. They didn't need to. The answer was painfully obvious to all of them. Who else would be so ignorant as to deprive Dalish elves of their halla? Who else could be cruel enough to butcher such majestic creatures in so horrible a fashion? Who would be so careless as to leave so many booted footprints at the scene of their crime for the hunters to follow? Only humans.

The scene changed right before their eyes, but the setting was just as dark and grim as the previous one. Rajmael and Nethras, along with a small detachment of their hunters, found the human poachers that murdered their halla. There were four of them, all wearing worn out old leather. The youngest couldn't have been more than in his twentieth year. All of them were unarmed and on their knees, looking like they were about to wet themselves, and they head every right to be so scared. The Dalish who caught them looked furious.

"Please...please, just let us go. We didn't mean any harm. Ugh!" One of the humans begged before being kicked in the chest by Nethras.

"Shut up, shem! How dare you say you meant no harm when all you did was harm us!?" Nethras seethed angrily.

"We didn't know they belonged to you. They were just animals!" Another of the poachers pleaded.

Nethras took what he said with resentment, and proceeded to beat the ignorant shemlen mercilessly into the dirt. The human's face soon broke and his blood coated the angry elf's knuckles. Right when Nethras had just turned the man's face into mass of pulp, Rajmael yanked his brother of the man.

"Nethras, that's enough!" Rajmael yelled, trying to pull his brother back.

"Bullshit, it's enough!" Nethras rejected heatedly and shoved Rajmael off of him. "You can't possibly think these bastards deserve mercy."

"No, but I don't think beating them to death is the answer, either." Rajmael answered sternly.

"Maybe you'd think differently if they murdered Neirin, but they did murder Ash, my Halla, and over a dozen others! We cannot let their crimes simply pass." Nethras countered.

"Then they should be judged, not tortured."

"Jusged by who!? You think the laws of the shemlen will punish them for trespassing against the Dalish? You think they give a damn about what our clan goes through!? No, Rajmael. If they did, they never would have done this in the first place." Nethras argued. "They butchered our halla! Skinned them, and then took their antlers like some kind of trophy! This crime cannot go unanswered."

"So you're just going to kill them?" Rajmael questioned.

"Yes. Just like they killed Ash." Nethras answered. "In the shemlen world, this would be seen as justice. Except it's never considered a crime to trespass against elves. If we have to suffer for their ignorance, then so do they. Unless you intend to stop me?"

Rajmael looked at the bound poachers, then looked at their sacks that were stuffed with the hides and antlers of his clan's halla. His brother's words did ring true. Nowhere in all of Thedas would anyone punish these poachers for committing a crime against elves. These men sought to gain from his clan's loss and misery, and that could not go unpunished.

"Do what you will, Brother. But prepared for the consequences."

Nethras nodded to his brother in acknowledgment and unsheathed his sword. Then he approached the poachers to carry out his sense of justice.

"Please! You don't need to do this!" Another of the poachers begged desperately. "We were just trying to make a living!"

"Let us go. We swear we'll never trouble your people again!' The fourth one pleaded.

"You think the halla you killed wanted to die? And now you dare beg for your own lives?" Nethras said with disgust.

"Those were just animals!" The first shemlen argued indignantly. "You really think the deaths of a few halla justifies killing us?!"

"The halla are sacred to the Dalish people, given to use by the goddess Ghilan'nain. They are not beasts of burden to us, they are our brothers, who you murdered!" Nethras scorned. "And if that means nothing to you, then consider the fact that the halla are an integral part of our Clan's survival. Without them, we cannot survive in the wild, and that is also murder. So, yes, this is justified."

Nethras brought his sword down on the first shemlen, cutting his head clean off. The other three tried to run, but didn't get very far. Nethras quickly shot an arrow through the backs of their heads. With the poacher's dead, Rajmael and the other hunters quickly gathered up the hides and antlers of their slain sacred animals. Nethras moved to help, but was stopped by Rajmael.

"Uh-uh. Sorry, Brother, but you said you were willing to accept the consquences of killing these poachers." Rajmael reminded and placed a spade in his brother's hands. "You killed them, now you get to bury them. And make sure you dig the holes deep so any friends these men may have had and their dogs won't find them."

Nethras gave Rajmael an indignantly outraged look, but conceded. While he set to his task of bury the poachers, Rajmael and the rest of them finished what they were doing and made their way back to camp. They would need to hold a funeral for their slain comrades. To most people, the halla were just mounts or beasts of burden, no different than horses or dogs, but not to the Dalish. The People, the Halla were companions, even siblings, for they too were created and blessed by the elven gods.

~XoXoXo~

"Well, that was a little extreme, wasn't it?" Dorian questioned. "I mean, I know what they did was terrible, but was it alright for Rajmael to just let Nethras kill them like that?"

"Don't be absurd, Dorian, dear." Vivienne chided. "In Orlais, stealing a man's horse is a hanging offense, why should butchering another people's halla be any different? The Inquisitor's brother did no more than what anyone else would have done."

"It's more than just that, Vivienne." Cassandra added. "The halla are more than just a vital part of the Dalish's survival. They are seen as companions. Rajmael treats his halla, Neirin, like he was his brother, not some kind of pet."

"That reminds me so much of when Aedan's beloved hound, Dane, died." Zevran said sadly. The memory of the times he and the rest of Aedan's companions had with that dog stirred up feelings of nostalgia and melancholy. "Aedan loved that mabari like he was his brother, and he fought just as fiercely. When Dane died, Aedan held a small funeral for him, and that was one of the only times I ever saw Aedan shed a tear."

"If the mabari are that important to Fereldans, imagine what the halla must be like for the Dalish." Varric pointed out.

"Nethras did have a point, though." Ranier stated. "Who was going to give their clan justice? Who was going to punish those men for their crime? If someone steals from a noble, they lose a hand or go to the gallows. Someone steals from an elf, murders an elf, nobody even bats an eyelash. Just like when those bastards were going put Rajmael on that pyre. I think I'm beginning to understand why Nethras was so pissed off at the world."

~XoXoXo~

The scene around them dissolved into nothingness, only for a new memory to be illuminated around them. It was like walking on a dark stage, then having the lights turn on with a new scene at the theater. The scene was set, and if they had been sitting down, they'd all be on the edge of their seat right now.

They stood just outside the threshold of great wilderness, that Cassandra recognized as the Tirashan Forest, a massive and almost primordial forest that bordered both the Free Marches and Orlais. She could see just beyond the tree line all of Clan Lavellan was standing with their aravels and halla like they were moving to a knew hunting ground. However, they were not moving, just watching. Like they were waiting for something to happen.

Rajmael, Nethras, and Evanura were all standing in a clearing outside the forest, with their backs turned towards the tree line. All three of them were armed for a fight. Nethras was armed with an ironwood bow and full quiver of arrows, with two shortswords sheathed on his back. Rajmael still did not have his signature sword, and instead held a staff with an amber crystal on top, and its lower half was just one long, double-edged blade. Evanura was also armed, with a weapon that all too familiar to all of them: the Enasalin, the sword Rajmael had carried throughout his entire time with the Inquisition. The slender, curved sylvanwood sword was strapped firmly to her hip, and judging from the look on her face, she was ready to use it.

All of them looked to the opposite side of the three elves, and saw just why the three of them were armed and realized why they were so ready for combat. A squad of human knights mounted on horseback, all dressed for battle. Judging from their highly decorative armor, gilded masks, and the long yellow feathers plumed in their helmets, these men were Orlesian Chevalier, and they outnumbered Rajmael and his companions three to one.

Rajmael stepped forward to address the Chevaliers. "Our clan has no quarrel with Orlais. We merely wish to pass through here and find a new hunting ground for our clan."

The Chevalier captain laughed at Rajmael with his thick Orlesian accent. "You think we give a single shit what you knife-eared savages want? You heathen rabbits breed like cockroaches doing Maker knows what in the forest, then you think you can just go where you please like you own the world. I find the idea of elves with such arrogance to be offensive."

"Better to live in the wild and have our wills tested against nature than to live under shemlen boots." Nethras' tone conveyed his disgust.

"Our elves know their place in the world. They don't go around painting their faces with heathen markings, and accept their roles in society. You pagans with your heathen ways still want to live like savages, and cause nothing but trouble for your betters." Another Orlesian sneered.

Rajmael gritted his teeth and clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white with anger, but he tried to remain calm. "We are not here to argue cultural differences. All we want is to pass through this valley. There is no need for unnecessary bloodshed between us."

"Ha! Even now, you speak as if you have any say in this matter, knife-ear." The Captain laughed beneath his mask. "You think we came out here to listen to you beg passage? No. When we got word that a Dalish clan was moving to pass through here, we decided going after elven savages sounded like better sport than testing our blades on your cousins in the Alienages. At least the Dalish have weapons, though I doubt that means you can use them against real warriors."

Nethras prepared to draw some arrows. He wasn't going to let his clan become sport for these pompous shemlen. Evanura, on the hand, remained calm, and wanted to try and resolve this matter peacefully.

"Please, we do not wish to spill any blood this day. What can we do to resolve this peacefully?" Evanura beseeched.

The Chevalier Captain took a moment to observe Evanura's exotic beauty, and lecherously licked his lips under his mask. Nethras and Rajmael both noticed the filthy look the human was giving her, and instantly took offense to it. Suddenly, they didn't want a peaceful solution any more.

"Tell you what, I'll make you a deal, since you're so pretty, rabbit." The captain said sardonically. "What's say you come back to our camp for the night with me and my men, and we'll have ourselves a 'cultural exchange'. While we're getting acquainted, we'll let your clan pass."

"Son of a...! That's my wife you're speaking to, scum!" Nethras growled threateningly.

"So use one of your halla to warm yourself tonight, I'm sure it makes no difference to you." The captain laughed mockingly. "We'll make sure your wife is much more knowledgeable by the time she gets back to you. Everyone wins! Besides, from where I'm sitting, with those ridiculous marks on her face, she already looks like a painted whore."

Rajmael and Nethras had enough. They refused to let the woman they both loved to be dishonored by these Chevalier pigs, and prepared to put their weapons to use. However, both of them were stopped when Evanura raised her hand to them both, bidding them to do nothing.

"Ma vhenan, I can handle this myself." Nethras' wife stated as she gently walked over to the captain on his horse.

The Chevalier officer laughed arrogantly as the elven beauty made her way over to him. "See? Isn't it better to just accept your place in the world instead of being what you're not, rabbit?"

"Actually, yes. It most certainly is." Evanura agreed, looking up at the shemlen on his saddle. She looked at his horse almost sympathetically. Then the damndest thing happened. It was so sudden none of them could believe what was happening. The horse's head slid off its own neck, and thick ropes of blood sprayed from its stump. Evanura unsheathed her sword and cut off the horse's head in one deft stroke, and did it so fast that no one saw her move. The horse's body fell to the ground with a thud, crushing its rider's leg beneath its mass.

"AAARRRGHHHH! Kill them! Kill them all!" The Chevalier captain screamed in horrible pain, his leg crushed beneath the weight of his decapitated horse.

Two of the Chevaliers moved to obey their commanding officer and cut down the elven wench who crippled them. Before they could even touch their swords, Nethras fired two arrows from his bow and shot both Chevaliers right between the eyes, splitting their masks in half. Another Chevalier galloped towards Nethras, aiming a crossbow at him, looking to shoot him down before Nethras could do anymore harm. Nethras shot the Chevalier's horse in the head as it charged, and smiled when the beast crashed to the ground and its rider broke his neck.

Two more Chevaliers prepared to attack, one armed with an axe, the other a longsword. They charged Evanura down from atop their thoroughbred stallions at full gallop. Both of them intended to cut the elven bitch down for crippling their captain. They would teach this elven bitch her place. The one with the axe charged in first, aiming to split Evanura's pretty head open.

Evanura leaped like a bird with such grace and speed she practically flew off the ground, and right over the knight with the axe before he could get near her. The Chevalier armed with axe's eyes went wide when his target flew over his head, right before her white sword swept through his head horizontally. The man's horse slowly came to a halt when its rider's bisected head fell off.

Evanura landed on the ground like a cat, and charged towards the second knightly horseman who was galloping towards her with his sword. Evanura dashed towards the charging horse with a speed that most would believe impossible, and in one quick, clean stroke, she cut off both the horse's right legs. The horse screeched in agony as it fell to the dirt, and its rider barely managed to jump off it in time, but still went rolling on the ground.

The Chevalier cursed and spat hatefully as he staggered back to his feet, still clenching his sword, and turned to face the elven woman who humiliated him so. "You knife-eared bitch...! Aghck!"

Before the human knight could take another step, Evanura threw his companion's axe right between his eyes and cleaved his skull in half.

Cassandra was immensely impressed by Evanura's martial prowess. It was beyond masterful. Rajmael once told all of them the Evanura was their clan's best swordfighter, and the he and his brother were never able to best her, and now Cassandra realized that description was an epic understatement. Cassandra had been studying the martial arts and warfare her entire life, all the skill she possessed was a result of years of intense training and grueling labor. Yet Evanura took to combat like it was easier than breathing. While the Chevalier had an infamous reputation, they were still elite knights that most warriors would think twice about facing, yet Evanura cut them down like they were ill-disciplined novices. Just how great of a prodigy was she?

All that took Evanura less than a minute to do, and she hadn't even broken a sweat.

Rajmael finally decided to step in. After all, he couldn't let Nethras and Evanura show him up, and after what those men said, what they would have done, he couldn't let such dishonor go unanswered. Rajmael used his magic to dash forward into the fray where the remaining Chevaliers were. Unlike most mages, who stayed out of the fighting and kept their distance, an Arcane Warrior's place was in the thick of battle.

One of the remaining Chevaliers, a man armed with a lance, charged down the young Arcane Warrior with the intent to skewer him and make an elf-kebab out of his head. Rajmael phase-shifted through the charging knight like a ghost, and went right through him. The Chevalier turned around to try and spear the elf again, and failed to notice that when Rajmael ghosted through him, he planted a lightning rune right on his back. Both the Orlesian knight and his horse blew up in an explosion of electric energy that sent chunks of the blood and body part flying all over the field.

Not willing to give the remaining two Chevaliers the chance to fight back or even escape, Rajmael flourished his bladed staff before releasing a powerful arc of lightning at them. The massive bolt of lightning slithered through the air like a massive snake and shot through one of the Chevaliers on his horse. The Orlesian knight screamed in agony as his armor conducted the lightning-based spell and incinerated his body inside. The lightning arc shot through the first Chevalier, then sought out the last one. The last Chevalier raised his hand, and summoned a shield of energy that deflected the electric attack entirely. The final Chevalier was a mage, much to Rajmael's surprise.

"Ha! Your pathetic heathen magic is no match for mine!" The Chevalier bragged boisterously. He dismounted his horse and conjured an ethereal sword from a bladeless hilt that was strapped to his hip, then assumed a fencing stance. "I am Rochefort de Rais, Knight-Enchanter of Val Chevin. I have spent many years training under the greatest swordsman of the Orlesian Empire and the Circle's most brilliant mages. I am the most formidable mage you shall ever encounter! You may have defeated my comrades, but you are like a gnat compared to my magic."

Rajmael just stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face and increasing disgust for Orlesian mages.

"So frightened you cannot speak, rabbit? Ha! As well you should be!" Rochefort laughed arrogantly, waving his ethereal blade in a fancy flourish. "You've never faced such mastery as posses. Come! Face me, I will give you the honor of seeing what the true power of the Knight-Enchanters are before you die. Come on, then!"

The Orlesian Knight-Enchanter reassumed his fencing stance with an arrogant smile on his face, ready to follow through with his bragging. Rajmael calmly planted his bladed staff into the ground and casually plucked a blade of grass. Rajmael took the time to look at the piece of grass in his hand and smelled its refreshing scent, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Rochefort grunted in frustration at how this insolent elf was not taking him seriously. "Come on, knife-ear! I haven't got all day! I'll send the other rabbit and that painted slut of his to the Fade next, you son of a...Aghk!"

Without even looking at him, Rajmael conjured an ethereal blade from the piece of grass between his fingers, sending it ten yards ahead of him, right into the arrogant Knight-Enchanter's big mouth and out the back of his head.

"You talk too much, asshole." Rajmael said with revilement in his words. "You Knight-Enchanters are nothing compared to the Dirth'ena Enasalin."

While Rajmael and Nethras quickly set to work to getting rid of the bodies, Evanura approached the Chevalier who was still pinned under his horse, the one who provoked all this. Evanura knelt over the crippled knight her face not full of pride of victory, but full of sympathy.

"It did not have to be this way. We just wanted to be left alone. All you had to do was let us go." Evanura said with underserved compassion.

"Get away from me, you whore!" The Chevalier spat in hatred and agony, rejecting Evanura's compassion. "You, your entire clan, all your families will die for this! Orlais will hunt every one of you knife-eared savages down for this crime! I swear, you will die screaming."

Nethras approached the human knight with his bow drawn. Unlike his wife, there was no sympathy to be found in Nethras' face. Cassandra could see the embers of anger and hatred burning in Nethras' eyes. This was more like the man they fought against two years ago. "Wrong, shem. All they'll hear is that you and your compatriots went hunting after a Dalish clan for sport, and like so many ignorant fools before, you went into the Tirashan forest, and disappeared without a trace."

Evanura closed her eyes and turned her face away when Nethras loosed his arrow into the injured Chevalier's head, and killed him instantly. As Rajmael, Nethras, and other members of their clan who had remained hidden throughout the fight, Evanura stood away by herself. Cassandra could see Evanura's eyes were filled with deepest regret. Despite her inherent skill with the sword, Evanura was not a violent woman. She was a healer, her duty was to mend wounds, not inflict death.

Nethras approached his wife and tenderly held her closely. "Ma vhenan, what's wrong?"

"It didn't need to be like this, Nethras. I didn't want to kill them." Evanura said woefully. She felt like hypocrite because she was the one who drew first blood.

"They weren't giving us much choice, love." Nethras said consolingly. "You heard what they said, they wanted to hunt our clan down merely for the sport of it. Sometimes, there are people who simply need to die."

Evanura looked at her own hands like they were covered in filth. "What is the saying our people used to have? That the healer has the bloodiest hands? Well, my hands are really bloody right now."

"Evanura, you did not murder them. Their deaths are not your fault. The fault was theirs." Nethras stated staunchly. "They chose to antagonize use. They chose to seek our clan out for the fun of hunting us. And they should have been ready to face the consequences of those choices. You only did what you had to in order to protect our clan, our family, Eva. You have nothing to feel guilty over."

Evanura turned to face her husband and kissed him gently on the lips before hugging him. His words brought her some peace with herself. "Thank you, ma vhenan. You always did know what to say to make me feel better."

"Sorry to interrupt your tender moment..." Rajmael spoke out apologetically. "...but we still have work to do. We need to hide the bodies and move the clan out before anyone comes looking for these Chevaliers."

~XoXoXo~

"Oh, shit yeah! Those guys were badasses!" Iron Bull laughed loudly. "I kinda wondered what that Nethras guy was like before drinking that magical blessing-whatever, and it looks like he was never any kind of pushover. And the way Evanura used that sword? That was fucking hot!"

"With those two as his training partners, it's no wonder the Inquisitor was always so formidable." Dorian said deeply impressed.

"Well, that would explain a lot." Varric stated as the memory of the event faded away. "I always wondered why the Inquisitor always has such a hate on for Chevaliers and Knight-Enchanters."

"Looks like he's got even more reasons to not like you, Vivvy." Sera said tauntingly.

"Oh, Sera, do grow up. It's as if he likes you any better. In fact, I believe you're the one who's always gone out of your way to blatantly offend him." Vivienne reminded haughtily. "If I recall correctly, didn't he smack in the Skyhold tavern for insulting his people?"

"I'm always amazed at how much Chevaliers enjoy being such pricks, yet they always act like they're the wounded party when they don't get their way." Ranier disdained. "Fucking hypocrites. No wonder all of Southern Thedas hates their guts."

Zevran nodded his head in agreement. "You would not believe how many contracts the Antivan Crows get to kill Chevaliers who wronged somebody. The problem, however, is that peasants and farmers can rarely afford the cost of assassinating a Chevalier."

"But I don't get it. Why was Evanura feelin' so bad about killin' those guys?" Sera asked curiously. "I mean, they're the ones who started it."

"She was born with the skill for the sword, but she walked the path of healing. Healing is the path of compassion." Cole said emphatically. "She was a wife, a mother, a healer, she wanted to save lives, not end them. She felt like she was betraying herself."

"A swordswoman who shows compassion, even to her enemies. A healer with the spirit of a warrior. Evanura was obviously a rare soul. And she was better swordfighter than many knights I have met. No wonder Rajmael loved her so much." Cassandra said sincerely. She no longer felt that sting of jealousy towards Evanura. Anyone with a conscience would have loved her. There was so much of her in Eva.

~XoXoXo~

That night, when the Clan was well enough away from the valley where those Chevalier's had been killed, there was meeting with the entire clan. Keeper Deshanna and all the clan elders were present. Rajmael, Nethras, and Evanura were also there, with Eva sleeping in her mother's arms. Eva was a toddler now, maybe seven years old. There was an air of distress and worry amongst the entire clan, it was obvious something was troubling them.

Junnarel stepped forward to address everyone present. "I think we all know what this meeting is about. Those Chevalier weren't merely the problem. No, the problem is the fact that not only were they able to cut us off from our route, they knew were we were, they didn't even need to track us. I'll say it plainly: our clan has gotten too big. We can no longer move unseen or stealthily through the forest. And when we're on the road, it looks like an army is marching by."

Everyone murmured and spoke amongst themselves with deep concern, sadly agreeing with Junnarel's statement. Everyone went silent when the Keeper stepped forward to address her clan.

"Then there is nothing for it." Keeper Deshanna said with deep regret. "It is my unfortunate duty to say this, but it must be said. With our clan this large, I'm afraid we must take drastic measures. We have no choice by to break our clan apart."

"No!" Evanura disagreed ardently, still holding her sleeping child. She handed Eva to Ariva, and stood to address the clan. "No, we cannot simply break apart like this. The Clan is what most of us have ever known."

"Evanura, you must be realistic." The Keeper urged.

"Keeper, how often have you and all the other Keepers of the Clan preached how we elves will only become a great people again once we have all reunited?" Eva recalled passionately. "Yet look how divided we are. Our kin in the cities pray to a human god and think we're a myth. And most Dalish clans never even see each except once every ten years during the Arlath'vhen. With every generation, our people drift further and further apart from on another. We cannot become a nation like this. If we break up now, our people's dream slips that much further from us. I speak not for myself, but for our children. If we do this, we rob them of their chance to live our people's dream."

A familiar elf stood to address Evanura's concern. It was Arren, the elven bully from Rajmael's earlier memory. "It's a beautiful dream, Evanura, but right now we have to live in reality. Those Chevaliers won't be the last shems that will plague us. You say that you're speaking on behalf of our children, but how much danger are we putting them in if we continue on like this?"

Nehari, the clan's Halla Keeper stood up next. "I want to agree with Evanura, Ghilan'nain knows I do, but there's just too much risk involved. Not only have our numbers grown too large, but we have too many mages amongst us now. Aside from Evanura and Nethras' daughter, how man families in the clan have had children with magic? We cannot sustain such a large number of mages. We don't have the resources to teach them, or the means to protect them should demons find them."

"No, this cannot be." Nethras objected firmly as he stepped forward to be heard. Everyone watched and listened to the hunter with great respect. "I'm speaking not only as Evanura's husband, but as a hunter of Clan Lavellan. Your concerns are that our numbers are putting us at risk, but what happens if we simply just break apart? We'd be vulnerable! Especially after the loss of so many of our halla. Those who do not have enough hunters will have no protection, and those without enough healers, craftsmen or even storytellers cannot function as a clan. And we certainly cannot ask another sister clan to take on our burden without encumbering them. We are one! And we must stay that way, elsewise we lose everything we are."

Nethras' words rang true with many in the tribe. A clan was only as strong as its members, and if they were to suddenly split, everyone would be left vulnerable. Would they be able to survive without the support of their clanmates? If they did break up, where would they go? The solution could be as dangerous as the problem.

Rajmael finally stood up to give his piece. As the First of Clan Lavellan, everyone showed him the same respect they did Nethras, for one day he would lead this clan. Now he would have say in their survival.

"I want it known that I agree with Evanura and Nethras." Rajmael declared. "The whole point of being a clan is to protect one another. The whole point of being Dalish is to make our people's dream of being a nation come true. We cannot do either if we continue to split a part from one another. However, wanting it to be true does not change the reality we live in." Rajmael lowered his head sadly, wishing he didn't have to say what must be said. "As you all know, I lived amongst humans as a child and I have been subjected to their cruelty. I am well aware of their ignorance. The clan has dealt honorably and fairly with humans in the past, but they were exception, not the rule. Most humans know nothing of us, except stories about how the Dalish are savages that carry out forbidden rituals, blood sacrifices, even cannibalism and slavery. And every human in the world knows we have an axe to grind not only against them, but their entire religion. If they see us in the numbers that we have, they'll think the Dalish have gathered an army to take back what they stole from us. Then in turn, they'll gather up their armies and wipe us out. They may even hunt down other clans or purge their cities' Alienages for good measure. I am sorry to say it, but the only way we will survive is if we reduce our numbers, join with other clans. Otherwise we will not be able to sustain ourselves."

Every member of Clan Lavellan considered Rajmael's words carefully, and found them to be true. Humans are ignorant and destructive by nature, a fact they all knew well. And if those Chevaliers were any indication, it meant they would find any excuse to see their clan as a threat and wipe them out.

"Maybe we should gather an army and take back what they stole from us." Nethras said angrily.

"Son, you don't know what you're talking about." Junnarel counseled.

"No, Father, I do know what I'm talking about!" Nethras argued bitterly. "Why do we let the humans do this to us?! Every piece of land the shemlen live on rightfully belongs to us, yet we have to live in fear of them every day of our lives! Where is the justice in all this!?"

"It's an imperfect world, Brother, and we have to live with imperfect solutions." Rajmael answered, trying to calm Nethras down, but fully understanding his anger. "I want you what you want, but getting our people killed is not the way to build them back up. We'll lose more than we'll gain."

Nethras turned away in bitter defeat. He hated it when his brother was right. "Damn the shemlen, and their Chantry."

"Then it is decided." The Keeper declared, bringing this meeting to a close. "Tomorrow we will begin discerning how best to divide our clan. Junnarel, you and I will seek out some of our sister clans in Nevarra and Northern Orlais and see if any of them would be willing to aid us. I'm sure we can find enough to help our clan."

"As you wish, Keeper." Junnarel said dutifully.

"Rajmael, while I am gone, you will assume my duties in the Clan. You have been training for this for nearly over twenty years now. Don't disappoint me."

None were more surprised by Keeper Dehsanna's instructions than Rajmael was. He had been First for so long that it seemed like that was his sole rank in the clan. Still, he was up to the task. "I think I can handle what you've been training me for."

"Good. Make sure the clan is well taken care of before I am gone. And remember this: being a Keeper isn't a rank, it's a responsibility. You must think of everyone in Clan Lavellan before everything else. They will all look to you for guidance, do not let fail them."

~XoXoXo~

Cassandra and the others watched as the memories moved forward with the Keeper's decree. As they watched, they realized that none of them truly understood just how harsh life is for the Dalish. Every day was a struggle for survival the likes of which none of them truly understood. Every da,y the Dalish were at the mercy of their way of life, a lifestyle with such harsh conditions and circumstances, that most people, average people, would die from them. If the hunters didn't bring in enough food, they starved. If the arvales weren't maintained or the halla became sick, they couldn't move to a new campsite. Then there was weather, disease, and of course, the ignorance and bigotry of humans. And it was these harsh conditions that made the Dalish strong, gave them a power of will that most people can never posses.

Later that very week, Keeper Deshanna and Junnarel left the clan to try and find other Dalish clans who would be willing to help with their burden. They didn't want to break up any of the families, but every clan can only support so many people. This would be a difficult task.

With Rajmael now acting as de-facto leader, he had to ensure the clan's security and function. A stressful role for anyone. He had to make sure that everyone in the Clan was doing their jobs, otherwise everything would fall apart. Speak with the Halla Keeper to ensure the halla's health. Make sure the Craft Master is making enough supplies for everyone in camp, and that the aravels are maintained. Then, as the only magical authority in the Clan present, Rajmael had to make sure all the mage children the clan had borne was of sound mind and body, and tried to teach them enough to control their magic so they wouldn't do any harm. Like Rajmael, all these children's magic manifested early, and trying to teach them all was an incredibly difficult task.

Then Rajmael came across the biggest problem his clan had, a result of the burden their large numbers brought: not enough supplies. With so many people in their clan, they were being stretched thin. The forest had not been kind with its yield, the hunters could not bring in enough food and necessities to sustain their entire clan. And to make matters worse, winter was on its way. Something had to be done, or they would lose too many people when the snows began to fall.

Being left with no other choice, Rajmael was forced to decide that they must trade with the local humans outside the forest to get the supplies they needed. Fortunately, there was a human settlement not that far away from the forest's borders, a farming settlement. With any luck, they would have the supplies they needed. However, this course of action was met with great resistance by Nethras.

"No! Rajmael, you must be smoking some new kind of weed from that pipe I gave you if you think this is a good idea." Nethras rejected ardently after hearing his brother's plan.

"Actually, I have been, but that's not why I've made this decision." Rajmael rebutted sarcastically. "I made this decision after I calculated our clan's inventory and our readiness for the next season. With the halla horns we still have, we'll be able to get all the supplies we need."

Nethras' eyes went wide with outrage. "You can't be serious, Rajmael! You're going to take the antlers many of our halla were butchered for, and just hand them over to these shemlen?!"

"I'm not giving them away, I am trading them for supplies vital to our clan." Rajmael corrected sternly. "You know, items like food, blankets, tools, that sort of thing? Halla antlers fetch high prices in human markets, I'm sure these humans will just give away the things we need for them. And I am sure that our halla brothers and sisters would understand."

"Rajmael, please, stop and think for a moment. You cannot go and make trade with these people." Nethras pleaded.

"And why not? Our parents and the Keeper have done trade with the humans many times without incident." Rajmael reminded.

"With humans and settlements they knew! With people who had as much to gain as we did." Nethras argued back. "Anyone the Keeper did trade with, she knew they would honor our arrangements and act fairly. These are not those people. I've scouted the village, and most of these people have never even seen an elf before, let alone the Dalish. All they do is listen to their damned Chantry Mother. We don't know if this people will even help us, or just try to burn us out of the forest."

"That's a risk we have to take, Nethras! I know better than you ever could how wretched humans are..." Rajmael shouted and revealed the horrible burn scar on his forearm, a mere fraction of the pain from his childhood, "...but the clan comes before our own fears and prejudices. If we don't get the supplies we need, many in our clan are going to starve or freeze to death when winter comes. We have to do this."

Refusing to let the matter Nethras grabbed Rajmael's forearm before he turned to leave, and looked at him pleadingly. "Please, Little Brother, I'm begging you. Don't do this. No good can come from these humans."

Rajmael and Nethras were as close as real brothers, and Rajmael hated to argue with him, but he refused to back down on this matter. "I'm sorry, but no, Nethras. My mind is made up. We need supplies, and this village can provide them, and I am going to oversee this trade. And remember this, while the Keeper is away, I am acting as leader for this clan. I will decide how best to protect it."

Nethras scowled bitterly, angry that not only would his brother not heed him, but the fact he pulled rank on him. "So be it, Rajmael. This is your play, after all. I just hope the security of our clan is more important than you testing your reach."

Nethras angrily walked out of the tent, that bitter scowl twisted on his face, and went to go get ready to depart with Rajmael's entourage. If Rajmael was so intent to get himself killed, Nethras needed to be there to make sure that didn't happen. He entered his family's tent and found his wife waiting for him while their daughter was taking a nap in her bed. Evanura had that stubborn look on her face, the one that told her husband that he was going to hear her out, whether he wanted to or not.

"How could you have gotten into an argument with Rajmael over this matter, Nethras?" Evanura asked scoldingly.

"What he's planning is absolute stupidity, Evanura." Nethras argued, trying to keep his voice down so he wouldn't wake up their daughter.

"Ma vhenan, I cannot believe you would fight with your brother over this." Evanura said disappointedly.

"And I cannot believe you would take his side over mine. You're suppose to support me, my beloved wife." Nethras returned with equal disappointment.

"I am always at your side, Nethras, even when I believe you're wrong. Just as you are suppose to side with Rajmael." Evanura said gently but firmly. "I know your feelings for humans right now are strained. First the murders of our halla, then that fight with those Chevaliers, there's a reason why our people are hostile to humans. And I know you're upset about the clan being forced to break apart, I am too. But now more than ever, we need to support Rajmael's decisions. He is merely doing what he believes is best for our people, and he is right to be concerned and seek aid. Please, be his brother now, and set aside your personal grudges for the sake of our clan, our daughter."

Nethras looked over to his daughter, sleeping so peacefully. Ever since she was born, he wanted to provide her with everything her heart would ever desire. To give her a better life than he had. Nethras would do anything to keep Eva safe, even if it was something he hated.

"So be it, ma vhenan." Nethras sighed. "I still think this is a stupid plan. But I'll make sure my brother makes it successful."

Evanura kissed her husband lovingly and hugged him closely. "Then hurry back soon, and bring back what our clan needs. And, if it isn't too much to ask, maybe bring back some blankets?"

~XoXoXo~

A sudden sense of dread clawed at Cassandra's heart, forcing her to gasp in horror, like she had just woken from a horrible nightmare. All the memories they had seen from Aedan, Hawke, and now Rajmael, were memories of great personal significance to each of them. And just now, she realized what memory this was, and it hurt her.

"Seeker? What's wrong?" Varric asked concernedly.

Cassandra's mind was too preoccupied to even hear the dwarf. "Maker, no. Anything but this..."

~XoXoXo~

All of them watched as Rajmael's memories moved onward. Rajmael and Nethras, along with a small contingency of their hunters, approached the small village on the outskirts of the forest. Nethras kept his bow and arrow close in case these villagers tried anything. The villagers were cautious at first, none of them had ever seen Dalish tribesman before, many of them had come with their pitchforks and wood axes. However, Rajmael assured them of his clans intentions, and was able to convince the village to trade with them.

After that, everything went smoothly. Rajmael was able to trade some rare herbs, ironwood, and some halla leathers for everything they needed. Plenty of cured meats, sun-dried vegetables, flour, everything they would need to survive the coming winter. It couldn't have gone better. Rajmael was extremely pleased with himself, and it seemed Nethras' fears were unfounded.

"Ah, excuse me, messere. Un moment, s'il vous plait!" Called an Orlesian accented man. He was a balding, fleshy man in his forties with a peppered beard and sideburns on his face. He approached Rajmael with a wide smile on his paunchy face. "Paul Messign, mayor of this humble village. At your service, messere."

Rajmael nodded his head to the man and returned his courtesy. "Rajmael of Clan Lavellan, at yours, serrah."

"Our humble village makes most of our living making quilts and blankets from the cotton we grow, however, our buyers decided it was cheaper for them to buy somewhere else. We'd be more than happy to sell you what we made this season, if you can trade us something back. So that we can make up our losses."

Rajmael pondered for a moment. It was true the clan needed blankets, winter in this region was always very cold. And these villagers had been very gracious to them, and they too needed trade to make up for what they had lost this season. It seemed like a reasonable offer, however, he already traded most of what he brought. Rajmael made his way back over to the wagon, and brought back the last thing he had, which had been wrapped carefully in linens. Nethras had to bite down on his own tongue when he saw what his brother was willing to trade.

"We don't have anything else, but I think these halla antlers will more than compensate you for your loss of revenue, and they'll more than pay for the cost of your blankets." Rajmael offered generously.

Paul's eyes went wide at the sight of such a rare commodity. Halla antlers were worth their weight in gold in markets of Val Royeaux. Most people would be lucky to find even one, but this elf was offering him six.

"Oh, messere, our blankets are only made of cotton or wool, not silk or linen. This is far too much to pay." Paul said gregariously.

"Indeed." Nethras said with a disapproving glare. "Rajmael, you cannot simply give something as precious as halla antlers away."

"I'm not giving them away. I am trading for them, Nethras." Rajmael corrected sternly. "And if this people are willing to be so generous to us, then I think we can afford to be generous in return. In times like these, we people need to set aside old differences for the sake of our people."

"Wisely spoken, monsieur." Paul said graciously. "These antlers will indeed fetch a handsome price. I just wish we could give you more than just old blankets for them."

"That's not necessary. We have what we need." Rajmael said courteously. "Thank you for your assistance, serrah. May your god look kindly on you."

"I am certain He shall."

Rajmael and his compatriots gathered the goods they traded for, and made their way back to camp with lifted spirits. They had gathered everything they needed before the season changed, and Rajmael had proven himself a capable leader and diplomat. However, as they turned their backs to the village, none of them noticed the dark, and even cruel smile on Mayor Paul's face as he watched the Dalish elves depart his village, and greedily looked upon the halla antlers he had traded for.

~XoXoXo~

Once the elves were far out of sight, Paul Messign rushed over to the Chantry as fast as his legs could carry his fat body. By the time he got there, his face was very purple. He wiped the sweat off his face and composed himself before entering the Chantry. The Chantry was vacant when Paul entered. No lay sisters or Chantry Brothers, not even the Revered Mother was there. They were all tending to their other duties. Instead, Paul went inside to meet with a group of Templars who were waiting for him.

"It's done, messere. I did as you instructed. The elven savages have left, and they even gave us more goods that are worth more than most of us make in a year." Paul informed, his polite, humble façade melted away, and now revealing his true, greedy colors. He was speaking to this Chantry's Knight-Captain. A tall, imposing man wearing thick armor, his face hidden underneath a closed helm.

"Why are we even bothering with the heathen elves? It's not as if they're worth our time." One of the Templars asked his superior.

The Knight-Captain glared at his subordinate from beneath his visor. "Because, you fool, there have been reports of an army of these Dalish savages massing in the woods. Just last week they ambushed a squad of Chevaliers without provocation, like cowards. What do you think they could do to the Maker-fearing people of villages like this one? And I have seen firsthand the consequence of what happens when you underestimate these heathens. They are a threat, and like weeds, they must be rooted out until there's nothing left from them to taint." The Knight-Captain looked over to Paul with a scrutinizing glare. "Did these elves suspect anything? You did not fail?"

Paul swallowed a lump of nervousness down his throat and tried to remain calm in front of the Templar officer. "Not at all, messere. I did exactly as you instructed, they never suspected a thing."

"Good." The Knight-Captain acknowledged from beneath his helm, sounding rather pleased. "Were there any mages amongst them?"

"I certainly wouldn't know, all those heathen elves look the same to me." Paul answered. "Though, the one I spoke to, I believe he was a mage. He carried a staff and all. I think the other ones called him Rajmael."

The Knight-Captain went stiff as a rusty pipe and jerked his head to the fat peasant when he heard that name. He grabbed Paul by the neck and shoved him against a wall with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

"What was that name again?" The Templar demanded.

"R-Rajmael. Th-that's what the other elves called him." Paul answered fearfully. "W-w-with a blasphemous name like that, how could I forget?"

"This elven mage, this Rajmael, did he have burn scars on his body?!" The Knight-Captain asked with vicious hostility.

"Y-yes! H-h-his chest and his h-hands looked as though he had w-walked through a f-furnace." Paul stuttered, scared out of his mind.

"Do you know this elf, Captain?" One of the Templars asked.

The Knight-Captain let go of Paul and slowly removed his helmet. Cassandra and the others were completely shocked by what they saw. The Templar's entire head was horribly marred. His scalp and parts of his face were covered in terrible burn scars that warped his flesh with only ragged patches of oily hair hanging from his head. There was a scar that trailed from the top of his forehead over his left eye, and down to his lower jaw. His left eye was dead, milky white, yet somehow full of hatred. It was like someone had tried to cleave his skull open, then set it on fire.

But it wasn't the man's scarred ugliness that disturbed Cassandra and the others so much. Despite the horrible scars that now distorted his features, and the years that had aged him horribly, they all recognized him. It was Knight-Captain Dermott, the man who murdered Ramael's real parents.

"Of course I know him! He's the reason I look like this!" Dermott answered hatefully, trailing his hand over his disfigured face. "Twenty years ago, when I served in a small village outside Ostwick, we discovered a family of elves practicing their heathen faith, praying to their false gods. We discovered they planned to give their mage son to the Dalish savages so that he may continue to practice his blasphemy, but we discovered their heresy before it could go any further. Like any good Andrastians, we put the parents to the sword and their child to the flame, so his heathen magic would cause no harm. Then those elven heretics attacked the village, and burned it to the ground. I tried to stop it, but was overtaken by their heathen savagery, and was left looking like this!"

Each word Dermott spoke was laced with hatred and anger and echoed throughout the Chantry. He was filled with so much fury his hands were shaking and his jaw clenched to the point that his teeth were grinding hard against each other.

"After that failure, I was stripped of my commission! It took my twenty years to finally get back to the rank I lost!" An epiphany lit up in Dermott's good eye and he began to calm down. "This cannot be coincidence. Surely, the Maker has brought that elven blasphemer back across my path so I might finish his holy work, and wreak terrible vengeance on him and all those savages! Gather up the rest of the men and arm yourselves! We're going after them!"

"How do you want us to take them?" One of the Templars asked dutifully.

"Any children they have who might have magic, we will take with us to the Circle, as the Chantry dictates. We cannot afford to have any more malificarum in the world." Dermott ordered. "The rest, put them to the sword and torch. We must make it known to these savages the price of invoking the anger of the Chantry's Templars. But Rajmael, he is mine. I owe that bastard for what he took from me."

"Then we have to hurry. Those elves know the forest better than we ever could, and can move at incredible speeds even in large groups." Another Templar urged.

"Oh, there's no need to worry about that." Paul assured with a satisfied smile on his face. "As I said, I did follow Knight-Captain Dermott's instructions. By the time they get back to camp it will already be too late for them. After all, I did sell them those diseased blankets."

~XoXoXo~

"Grr! Son of a bitch!" Iron Bull growled viciously. "I can't believe that Dermott prick was still alive! Junnarel should have chopped his head off to make sure."

"Fat, pig-faced, puss bag, shit-eating bastards, the both of them!" Sera cursed at the top of her lungs.

"The Imperium may have been the first ones to bring the elves low, but it seems the Southerners have been trying very hard to try and finish what my ancestors started." Dorian said, his eyes glaring with anger.

"These men make me sick, and I'm a professional killer! At the very least, Aedan had just cause for living for revenge. That Templar deserved what happened to him, and worse!" Zevran observed before spiting hatefully to the ground.

"Using a welcoming smile and friendly intentions to mask a hidden agenda. This man certainly had a concept for The Game, though such bigoted and small-minded goals are beneath contempt." Vivienne said with disdain.

"There was no pain, no guilt in Paul. He truly felt what he was doing was righteous, pure, and holy. He believed he was doing the Maker's work, and was happy to hurt so many people." Cole informed sadly as he felt the emotions of this memory. "How can anyone think hurting and killing people is a good thing? Why do so many people think it's right to hurt others for being different?"

"It's strange. We witnessed Nethras kill this sorry bastard and his family, and we cursed him for it." Ranier recalled clearly. "Is it wrong that I no longer blame Nethras for what he did?"

"This Knight-Captain Dermott was the one behind two of the worst tragedies in the Inquisitor's life? That can't be coincidence." Varric noted disdainfully. "Either the universe really loves irony, or this must be another example of the Maker's twisted sense of humor."

"No, Varric. The Maker had nothing to do with this." Cassandra spoke out, her own anger beginning to boil inside her. "This is the work of evil men with twisted souls who use the Maker's name to mask their own treachery in righteousness. For too long the Chantry has allowed such people to corrupt the Maker and Andraste's words, and allowed innocent people to suffer. People like Rajmael, like Cole, who did nothing. I swear, that after this we will not allow such crimes to go unpunished ever again."

~XoXoXo~

The memory moved on from Paul and Dermott's vile conspiracy and back to the campsite of Clan Lavellan. Cassandra felt her heart sink at the sight before them. The members of the clan no longer walked the camp with pride and strength, and there was no air of joy to be found, even after their success. Now, almost every member of the clan, man, woman, and child, lay strewn in their tents. The camp guards tried to stand firm, but they were too weak. The sounds of painful coughing, groaning and crying echoed across in the forest, and the air felt and smelled sick, like an open wound. Whatever disease had tainted those blankets had already set in.

The few elves who hadn't been afflicted with the illness yet had set up a large hospital tent to quarantine them from the rest of the clan and stop the spread of the sickness. But there were so many of that had been infected that they couldn't all fit in there, and there wasn't even enough beds to rest them on. Many of them were lain outside on the ground, with as many of the uninfected trying to tend to them all, but it just wasn't enough.

Ariva, Evanura, Nehari the Hallakeeper, and Rajmael did their best to tend to the sick, but they were just stretched too thin, there was just so many of their clan to tend to. Horrible coughs were tearing their clanmates apart, while a their bodies were burning with a terrible fever. Rajmael and Nethras realized too late that the blankets he had traded halla antlers for were what brought this plague on them. Nethras and his remaining hunters set to work to burning the blankets before the sickness could spread any further.

"Mythal'enaste! What has happened here!?" An elderly voice cried.

Everyone turned to the welcome sight of Keeper Deshanna, returned from her meeting with another clan with Junnarel with her. Rajmael's elation quickly soured into shame, wishing so desperately that things hadn't gone so horribly wrong.

"Nethras, Rajmael. In the name of all the gods, what has happened to our clan?" Junnarel asked completely horrified.

Nethras answered his father's question with deep anger, and grabbed Rajmael by his collar. "He fucked up!"

"Nethras!" Ariva scolded.

"No, Mother, this is Rajmael's fault!" Nethras insisted staunchly, clenching his brother's collar tightly with anger. "He brought this on our clan! I told you we couldn't trust those humans, I begged you not to, and you refused to listen! Now look how those humans repaid your honor, your desire for peaceful interaction! With treachery, and diseased blankets! And now my daughter is in this hospital because of your foolishness!"

Rajmael didn't bother fighting back. There was nothing he could saw or do to defend himself against his brother's anger. Everything Nethras said was absolutely true, and all Rajmael could do now was own up to it.

"Now, isn't the time to be looking who to blame, Nethras!" Evanura shouted sternly, trying to get her husband to calm down. "Rajmael isn't the one who put this sickness on our people, those shemlen did. And right now, we should focus on saving our daughter and our clanmates, not looking who to put the blame on."

Nethras released his brother, but his anger was far from abated. As angry as he was, Eva meant more to him. Nethras, Junnarel, and what members of the clan who were not infected left to fetch the supplies the healers would need to treat the sick.

With the Keeper finally here, those still left healthy in the clan were able to make more headway in treating the sick. With Deshana, Ariva, and Evanura's knowledge and skill in the healing arts, they were able to save many from dying of this human sickness. Sadly, even with their combined skill and magic, they weren't able to save all of the infected, and were forced to place a death shroud over some of their clanmates, all of them were people they had known their whole lives.

Rajmael did what he could, whatever task Ariva or Evanura asked of him, he quickly set to it. Sadly, Rajmael's training and magic was of little use here. Rajmael's training was that of a warrior, and his magic was meant for healing wounds and injuries done on to himself, not treating sickness or breaking fevers. Rajmael felt completely useless. All those years of training and discipline, and now, when his clan was truly in dire need, he couldn't save them. Instead, all he did was bring them ruin. It took everything Rajmael had not to be overwhelmed by his feelings of disgrace.

Cassandra felt her heart ache painfully at the sight of Evanura sitting over her daughter on her cot. Eva's breath was in short, raspy gasps, and she was sweating so badly from her fever. Evanura placed a cold rag on her daughter's head to try and reduce her fever, whispering a prayer under her breath. Evanura tried to remain strong, but couldn't help the tears that welled in her eyes. This was every mother's worst nightmare, the possibility of losing her child. Evanura had already lost too many of her clan and refused to let her baby be taken by human treachery.

"M-mama?" Eva whispered painfully, and tried open her eyes when she felt her mother's loving hand. "Mama, am...am I dying?"

Evanura felt her heart break at that question. Cassandra's heart broke with hers.

"No! No, da'vhenan, you are not dying." Evanura answered tearfully. "You cannot die. All our hopes, our dreams, our future is within you. Where would our people be without you, Eva?

Eva winced and whimpered in terrible pain, her fever spiking, making it feel like her whole body was on fire. "It...it hurts, Mama. It hurts so bad..."

"Eva, please! Stay with me!" Evanura cried painfully. She held her daughter's hand tightly.

Rajmael stood over Evanura and her daughter, both who he loved so very much. He couldn't stand to see either of them suffering. He had to do something.

"Evanura." Rajmael beckoned softly and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Let me make this right."

Rajmael knelt before Eva's body and clasped his hands softly around hers, then bowed his head in reverent piety. "Dirthamen, god of knowledge and fortune, grant me the wisdom and knowledge to aid this child. Sylaise, hearth keeper and healer, bring your gentle grace upon her. Mythal, mother and protector, bless this child and grant her your strength to overcome this sickness. Ten las ma vhen atishan."

Rajmael completed his prayer and continued to hold Eva's hands firmly in his own, and hoped that the gods had heard his prayer. He had never used his magic to treat illness before, but for Eva, he would give it his all. Rajmael and Eva's hands glowed brightly as lanterns as he connected his own life with her. Rajmael channeled his own magic into Eva and connected it with his own powerful mana with hers. Eva's body shined brightly with the same shimmering aura that Rajmael used in combat that glittered around her like stars.

The shimmering aura around Eva dissipated. A long gasp escaped Eva's lips, like she was taking air into her lungs for the first time, and rose from her bed. Her fever was broken, and all traces of the illness from those damned blankets left Eva's body. She was healed.

"Mama, I'm feeling much better now. Can I have something to eat?" Eva asked innocently.

Evanura couldn't hold her daughter close enough to her, and happily kissed her daughter's face as relieved tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. "Oh, my baby. My darling da'vhenan, you can have anything you want." Evanura looked up to Rajmael, still crying but her eyes were filled with happiness and gratitude. "Thank you, Rajmael."

Rajmael only smiled and nodded his head to Evanura, and looked upon the mother and daughter with pure joy. After this tragedy he had brought onto his clan, being able to save Eva's life brought Rajmael more joy than he had ever felt. Was this what it was like to be a healer? There was still much to be done, but if he could save the life of a child he loved, then perhaps he could do the same for the rest of his Clan.

~XoXoXo~

It had been far too long since Cassandra had seen this side of her lover. The piety and spiritual humility that set him apart form most men she had known. His devotion to the elven gods was once so great that it would have put many Chantry members to shame. It was a side of Rajmael she had not seen in so long, a side even he seemed to have forgotten, ever since Corypheus' death. And the truths they had learned on this journey about the elven gods had only crushed Rajmael's faith even harder. It's good to see a part of him that once meant so much to him.

Seeing these memories helped Cassandra understand the man she loved more so than she ever had. In the past two years, she had barely seen him, and now she was witnessing his life like she was actually there. Now, she truly understood his love for his people, why Eva was so dear to him, and why, no matter the changes that had been made, he could never support the Chantry. These memories truly helped Cassandra know Rajmael better than she had before, and her love for him only deepened.

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael took a moment to watch Evanura embrace her daughter. After the terror he had brought on his own clan, it was good to see that he could still get something right. And there was no more beautiful sight than seeing a mother embrace her child after fearing for her life.

A few days had passed, and those who were not afflicted by the illness tirelessly worked to treat the infected. While they saved as many as they could, many of their clanmates still perished from the feverish sickness inflicted on them by Paul Messign's diseased blankets. Knowing that the blame fell squarely on his own shoulders, Rajmael took it upon himself to perform the rites, dig their graves and bury his dead brothers and sisters. It took every ounce of his will not to let the shame of guilt consume him as he laid their bodies to rest.

The sun was beginning to set now, and Rajmael was still not done with his self-appointed task as he dug another grave for his clanmates, trying not to weep for them. As he labored, a loud trumpeting sound split the forest's silence. Rajmael looked over to the edge of the camp, and saw one of their hunters rushing back to camp as quick as his halla could carry him. A sense of alarm gripped Rajmael when he noticed the halla was needled with arrows, and so was his rider. Rajmael dropped his shovel and ran to the rider quickly.

The hunter's halla collapsed to the ground dead from its wounds, and the hunter limped towards the camp before falling to the ground himself, with an arrow sticking out of his back. Cassandra recognized the wounded hunter. It was Arren, the elf that bullied Rajmael as a child. Rajmael and Nethras approached their former tormentor, both filled with shock and bewilderment. What was happening? Who attacked him?

Arren collapsed at Rajmael's feet, unable to take another step, and blood running quickly out of his wounds.

"Arren? What happened?!" Rajmael asked desperately.

Arren's breathing was heavy, and he was wheezing from the blood filling his lungs. "We...we were attacked. Templars, a great many of them found us. There was just too many of them, I barely escaped to warn you. Rajmael...they're coming here, right now. Their leader, a horribly scarred man, he mentioned your name. He's...he's after you."

"What? What're you talking about?" Ramael asked confused.

"If they managed to attack our hunters, then these Templars aren't far. We have to prepare for battle, quickly!" Nethras turned back to the camp to warn the clan. Many of them were still affected by the sickness and in no condition to fight, leaving too few of them to defend the camp. "Everyone capable of bearing arms, grab you weapons and prepare for attack! We've been discovered!"

While Nethras tried to rouse what hunters and warriors were left, Rajmael tried to help Arren get to Ariva. "Come one, Arren, let's get you to my mother. She can heal your wounds."

However, Arren didn't budge. He was too weak to even stand, he had lost too much blood. "I'm sorry, but I don't think even your mother can help me right now. I'm just glad I got here in time to warn you before I go meet Falon'din."

"No!" Rajmael refused to allow this. "I've already lost too many clanmates, we're not losing you, too. We can heal you, Arren, we just need to get you to safety."

Arren looked up at Rajmael with a small smile, his eyes were dim and heavy, like he was very tired and about to go to sleep. "Hey, Rajmael? You're...a fine Dalish elf. I'm sorry...I was such an asshole to you...when we...were boys..."

Arren spoke his last breath and his heavy eyes shut with a proud smile on his face, then died in Rajmael's arms. Rajmael whispered a quiet prayer to Falon'din and asked forgiveness for not being able to save his fellow Dalish. Arren's warning deeply troubled Rajmael. Not just that the Templars were coming after them, but the fact they were after him, even knew his name. That bastard Paul must have figured out he was a mage, then sent the Templars after him. As if bringing a plague on his clan wasn't enough.

Too much destruction and pain had been brought on the clan because of him, Rajmael couldn't allow anymore. If the Templars were truly after him, then Rajmael would go out to meet them before they got to the campsite. Templar usually hunted in groups of at least seven, and if worst came to worst, Rajmael was confident he could handle that many of them. First he had to go find them before they found the camp. Rajmael stood to carry out his plan, only to come to horrifying realization that he was far too late, and so very wrong.

"Oh, Holy Maker. Please, no..." Cassandra pleaded in vain at the sight before them.

Many dozens of torches lit up within the forest just beyond the camp, all held in the fists of the Chantry's Templars. There must have been almost an entire company here for them. What had Clan Lavellan done to bring this on them? Rajmael could see someone standing at the front of the Templars, an officer with a horribly scarred face. Rajmael didn't recognize him, but somehow the man was familiar to him.

Dermott drew his sword and hatefully pointed it to the heathen camp. "In the Maker's name, attack!"

Wasting no more time, the Templars drew their weapons and charged the Dalish camp. Dermott had coordinated their assault perfectly. After twenty years of living with shame, he would take his vengeance with his own hands.

"Keeper, we're under attack! Templars!" Rajmael screamed so the whole camp would hear him.

Nethras Junnarel quickly led the hunters they had left and formed a line in front of the camp. All of them stood their ground, unflinching in their conviction to protect their clan, even as the greater force of Templars charged them down. They all drew their arrows and waited for the first wave Templars to get within range. Once they were close enough, the Dalish archers loosed their arrows onto their human adversaries. Every arrow found its mark, and the Templars' armor did very little to stop the ironwood arrowheads.

Junnarel and Nethras didn't even wait for a volley fire. Both of them were master archers, and fired shot after shot at the invaders, each arrow killing their target. After killing a snowy wyvern when he was only da'len, these Templars were nothing. Every arrow Nethras fired was filled with his anger and outrage. How dare these Chantry dogs attack them!? The Clan had committed no crime, yet these soldiers of the Chantry wanted to exterminate them. Even after all these centuries, humans never changed. Nethras would kill every one of these bastards for daring to threaten his family.

Rajmael aided his father, brother and clanmates by using his staff to conjured a field of lightning runes in front of the charging Templars. The instant they stepped on those runes, they exploded like powerful mines of electric energy, and blew the foolish trespassers to pieces. However, it wasn't enough. There were still more of them charging down, and the elves didn't have the numbers right now to fight them off.

Then Keeper Deshanna stepped forward, and the onlookers of this memory knew that these Templars were going to regret ever stepping into this forest. When Cassandra was an apprentice in the Seekers, she was taught that Dalish Keepers were often times the most dangerous kind of apostate, even more dangerous than bloodmages. The magic they knew was older and far more powerful than anything taught in the Circles of Magi. How they could manipulate nature and commune with spirits made them a danger to anyone who fought them.

Keeper Deshanna raised her staff above her head and whispered a spell in the ancient elven language that none of them could understand, making the crystal in her staff glow brightly, then lanced her staff into the ground. Before the Templars could gird for another attack, the forest began to groan and the air grew very cold, and suddenly all life in the forest seemed to come to a halt. Even the vast number of Templars halted at the sudden change in the environment. Suddenly, it felt as if something was watching them, like the Templars were being glared at by a very angry gaze.

Several shrill screams broke the queer silence when some of the Templars was suddenly sent flying through the air and broke their necks on the ground. All the Templars tried to maintain ranks; if they broke formation, the elves and whatever was out there would pick them off. What was out there? What demon did these elves summon with their eldritch magic?

One of the Knight-Lieutenants placed his back against one of the trees, so that whatever was out there would not sneak up on him, and tried to get a sense of what was attacking them. Night had fallen now, and it was difficult to see, even with their torches. Then the Knight-Lieutenant felt something moving against his back. Like the tree just started moving. Terror filled the Templar when he looked behind himself and saw the tree he had put his back against was now moving on its own. It's trunks were like legs, its branches were arms, and it had a gnarled face with eyes filled with rage. All the Knight-Templar could do was scream in terror when the animated oak tree raised its massive trunk-like leg and smashed it down on the screaming Templar, squashing him like a bug.

Out of nowhere, all the tree around the Templars came to life, filled with rage and bloodlust towards the human intruders, and attacked them without mercy. Crushing them beneath their rooted feet, grabbing then throwing them like they were ragdolls, or just striking them with the force of a battering ram. Some of the Templars fired flaming arrows at the walking trees, but all that did was make them angrier. Now the Templars were being crushed, and burned alive.

Up until now, Cassandra and the others had no idea the kind of power Keeper Deshanna wielded, only that Rajmael constantly bragged that hers outstripped any Circle mages'. They should have already realized how powerful Clan Lavellan's Keeper was. They had all witnessed Rajmael's mastery of magic; so how powerful was the mage who taught him? It was something these Templars realized all too late.

Deshanna used her magic to raise a barrier of thrones around the front of the camp, cutting the Templars off from them, if only for a moment. Using such magic obviously took its toll on the very old elven mage. She leaned on her staff, completely exhausted. At her advanced age, using such powerful spells was very taxing.

"This barrier won't hold for long, but the sylvans should occupy the Templars for the moment." Deshanna stated, panting heavily. "Rajmael, your father, brother, and I will keep the Templars at bay with the hunters. I want you to help your mother and Evanura evacuate the sick and the children. Get them to safety, no matter what."

"Keeper, you cannot be serious." Rajmael rejected ardently. "This is my battle, I brought this tragedy to our clan, I should be the one to fight it!"

"For once in your life as my apprentice, Rajmael, do as I say." Deshanna urged strongly. "There are still too many of our clan who are too sick to fight, or even move. Evanura and Ariva will need all the help they can get. Your magic will be more useful to them. If you want to make this right, then be an Arcane Warrior and protect our clan. Keep them from harm."

Rajmael wanted to stay and fight, to drive these Templars out of the forest and avenge Arren, but he knew in his heart the Keeper was right. "So be it. Keep the Templars off us, and we'll get our people to safety."

"Rajmael!" Nethras called loudly, his eyes filled with deep concern. "Don't let anything happen to my wife and daughter. I'm entrusting you to them, Little Brother."

"I won't fail you, Brother. I promise." Rajmael swore.

~XoXoXo~

From the top of a nearby hill, Dermott watched the battle unfold before him. He had to admit, he didn't foresee the Dalish witch summoning demon-possessed trees to fight them. Dermott watched from a distance as the Templars he gathered for this mission were being crushed by the sylvans or slain by the elves, and it was taking a toll on their numbers. Irregardless, everything was going perfectly to plan. The Hammer and Anvil maneuver, the oldest tactic in all of warfare, and these Dalish heathens were falling straight into it. While the remainder of the Dalish warriors engaged Dermott's men in a frontal assault, he would lead his men to attack them from behind and cut off the escape of their sick and young. And if necessary, he still had a trump card waiting for the Dalish. After tonight, Thedas would be free from a few more these Maker-forsaken heathens, and Dermott would have his revenge.

~XoXoXo~

"Everyone this way!" Rajmael called, his staff in hand alight with magic to shine their path through the forest as he tried to lead the sick, young and elderly away from the battle.

"Anyone who is not injured or sick, try to help those who can't keep up. No one is being left behind." Evanura instructed. She was holding her daughter close to her in one hand, and rested her other hand on her sword, should the need arise. Just as before, she was set to wield the Enasalin.

"Everyone stick together. Children, stay close to me." Ariva beckoned. Like Rajmael, she had her staff in hand. Fighting was never her strength, but if anyone tried to harm her clan, she would make them regret being born.

Cassandra and the others watched with such anxiety it made their hearts race to the point where they all might have a heart-attack. They watched as Rajmael desperately tried to lead the rest of his clan to safety after bringing such danger to them. But after losing so many of their halla, they couldn't possibly move this many people, and were forced to leave their aravels behind. They could still hear the sounds of battle behind them where their Keeper and hunters were fighting to cover their retreat. Rajmael wished he could be back their helping them, but he knew the safety of the rest of their clan was more important. He had to protect the clan and his family, he swore to Nethras he would keep them away from harm.

Rajmael led his clan further into the forest and further away from the battle. For most people, it would be nearly impossible for them to navigate through the forest at night, even with torches, but thankfully, elven eyes see better in the dark. Thanks to that, they were making good progress into the forest. Suddenly, Rajmael's elven eyes saw something that stopped him dead in his tracks and gripped his heart with fear. It was the Templars, they somehow got ahead of them and were cutting off their retreat.

"In the Maker's name, stop! You will go no further!" The commander of the Templars ordered, his men all standing ready behind him.

There was something horribly familiar about that Templars voice that made Rajmael's heart feel weak, like something from a forgotten nightmare. He was horribly disfigured man with burn scars similar to Rajmael's all over his scalp, and his left eye was scarred over like someone carved it out with a blade. However, Rajmael was too busy cursing himself for a fool to think about why this shem looked so familiar. The battle, all the Templars his brother and father were fighting, it was all a trap, and Rajmael walked straight into it. Distract the warriors with battle, then pick off the rest of the clan as they retreated. Like catching a fox out of its den. Rajmael had led his clan to their deaths.

A glimmer of satisfaction shinned in Dermott's remaining eye. After twenty years of pain and humiliation, waking up every morning and seeing nothing but failure and disgrace in his own reflection, the Maker had finally answered his prayers. He would finally have justice and visit the Maker's punishment on the elven heathen who scarred him.

"In the name of Her Most Holy, Divine Victoria V, you are hereby found in violation of the Halamshiral Concordat and found guilty of harboring apostates, shedding the blood of the Chantry's servants, and the foul practice of demon worship. Give up now, and reside yourselves to the Chantry's mercy. Any action other than surrender will be dealt with by maximum force. Give yourself up!" Dermott ordered like he was giving a sermon, and all of his Templars drew their weapons.

"I don't know who you are, but you must be snuffing more than just lyrium if you think we're going to surrender to the likes of you." Rajmael defied, putting himself between his clan and the enemy. The children huddled closer to their parents, while the sick vainly tried to stand to defend themselves. Ariva and Evanura readied themselves for a fight, and Eva clung tightly to her mother's leg, whimpering in fear.

"Oh, but you do know me, isn't that right, Rajmael Yonwyn? That was your name, wasn't it?" The Knight-Captain asked sinisterly. "Last time we saw each other, you were pissing in your pants as you were being dragged off to the Maker's judgment."

Rajmael's eyes welled up with painful, agonizing tears as flashes of his mother and father's severed heads lying at his feet, and the feeling of his entire body being consumed by fire. He remembered who this man was: a monster from a nightmare he tried to forget. "You...! Dermott!"

"You have no idea how I've dreamed for this day. How I prayed for it!" Dermott spoke with excitement, his hand grazing over his mutilated face. "Ever since that day, I suffered for my failure! You and your wretched kind ruined my life! I was stripped of my rank for failing to carry out my duty, and had to spend every day looking like this! You have no idea how often I prayed and begged the Maker to deliver you back to the hands of the righteous, and now, here you are. And the rest of your wretched clan, as well. There isn't a doubt in my mind the Maker has delivered you to me."

"You murdered my parents, stole my life, and you dare act like you're the victim!?" Rajmael raged bitterly. "Now, you dare to harm my clan? My family!? You're not leaving this forest alive, motherfucker!"

"Prepare for battle, my Templars!" Dermott declared to his men, posturing like a peacock. "Fear not their heathen magic, for the Maker protects us! We are the swords of will, mortal agents of divine punishment! The sanctity of our mission is...argh!"

An elven dagger was thrown at Dermott's face before he could finish his zealous speech. He barely ducked in time for it to miss him, but the Templar behind his wasn't as lucky when the dagger was lodged in his throat.

"You Templars talk too much!" Evanura yelled angrily and drew her sword. She looked down to her daughter who was still clinging to her leg. The last thing she wanted was to be separate from her child, especially in times of danger, but she couldn't fight the Templars with Eva so close to her. "Eva, stay close to your grandmother, and whatever you do, don't use your magic."

"Mama!" Eva cried. She was scared and didn't want to leave her mother's side.

"Come da'len. Let your mother and godfather do what they must." Ariva beckoned, taking Eva's hand.

"Mother, stay out of the fight as best you can and double back to the camp." Rajmael instructed seriously. "These Templars can negate your magic, and the sick need you to heal them."

Ariva didn't want to leave her son and daughter-in-law to fight all these Templars by themselves, but she knew that this was what they had trained for all their lives. Ariva was a healer not a warrior, and with this many Templars, they could easily cancel out her magic and render her a hindrance to her clan. "May Mythal be with you both."

Eva's grandmother grabbed her hand and lead the rest of them back towards the camp. She looked back towards he mother with tears in her eyes.

"Follow after them. Let none of them escape." Dermott ordered some of his Templars. Before they could take even one step, a bolt of lightning struck one of their helmets before leaping to the others. The steel of their helmets conducted the electricity and made their heads explode, covering their fellows in chunks of brain matter, flesh, and blood.

"You're going to have to get past us first." Rajmael seethed, his bladed staff crackling with lightning.

"Enasalin!" Evanura cried the vicious savagery only a mother could posses, and attacked the Templars with the sword that bore her war cry.

Cassandra and the others watched in awe as the elven healer engaged her enemies. Outnumbered as she was, Evanura was a match for ten Templars. It became obvious that she had always been a greater swordsman than Rajmael had ever been, or could ever wish to be. Evanura moved with the grace and elegance of a crane and the speed and deathly precision of a falcon as she glided across the battlefield. She was so fast, made the Templars look like they weren't even moving. The blood, severed limbs and agonized of the Templars that dared attack her clan flew through the air as Evanura deflected, parried and countered their attacks severed their limbs and sliced their arteries through the chinks in their armor. Evanura's sword style mirrored Rajmael's but was vastly superior at it. One stroke, one cut, one kill.

Three Templars attacked Evanura from the front, in the hopes that one of them could strike an opening in her defense. But Evanura did not fight defensively, she fought to win, and without mercy. The swift elf quickly dove towards the Templar on her right and sliced his leg off from behind the knee where his armor was weak. The Templar fell to the ground screaming and clutching his bleeding stump. The second Templar tried to bring his sword down on Evanura before she could get back to her feet. She did a front handspring out of the way, and before the Templar could recover from his attack, she cut his hands off at the wrists, dropping his sword to the ground with his hands still clutching the handle. The last Templar roared in rage from beneath his helm and tried to kill the deadly little Dalish with one swing of his warhammer. Evanura simply ducked beneath the feral swing, lanced her sword beneath the weak point beneath the Templar's helm, and stabbed him through his neck and out of the back of his head.

The three Templars lied dead on the ground, but there were still more to fight. Before this night was over, Evanura was going to be bathed in their blood.

Many Templars surrounded Rajmael; being a mage, they knew he was a bigger threat. But with so many of them around him, there was no way he could use his profane magic on them. All of them drank enough lyrium to null a whole class of Circle Mages. The Templars exerted their will simultaneously and felt the strength of the Veil weaken around the elven heathen, and all of them attack him at the same time. Their swords of righteousness would cut him down to shreds.

The swords of the Templars were blocked and completely shattered by the force of a shield of magic energy surrounding the elf. Before the Chantry knights could register their shock, the Dalish elf phased through them like he was some kind of specter fast than they could react, whirled his bladed staff around himself like a tornado and sliced the Templars' throats wide open, all within a heartbeat. The Templars fell to the ground, clutching at their throats with their own blood gurgling out of their mouths.

"Ghrgle! How...how...!?" One of the Templars managed to say while chocking on his own blood.

The Templars obviously never fought the likes of an Arcane Warrior in their lives. While they did manage to weaken Rajmael's connection with the Fade, they never realized that he didn't depend on that connection to give him power like a common mage. All of Rajmael's power came from within himself, in his own vast mana reserves, cultivated and expanded from years of meditation and discipline. That is the true strength of the Dirth'ena Enasalin. These Templars never stood a chance.

With his quarry distracted by spilling the blood of his righteous brethren, Dermott found the perfect opportunity while the elf wasn't looking. He would avenge himself and his fallen brethren by plunging his sword through this elven pagan's back and right into his black heart. Cassandra swallowed back a terrified scream as she watched the Templar's sword go straight for Rajmael's back.

The loud clanging of steel clashing against steel rang when Rajmael countered Dermott's sword from behind him with a reverse riposte. Rajmael didn't even bother to turn around to stop Dermott's attack. The Templar completely underestimated Rajmael's heightened sense of awareness, sharpened by thousands of hours of meditation.

"Like I didn't see that coming, you cowardly son of a bitch!" Rajmael cursed and planted his heel into Dermott's chest with a powerful back-kick.

Dermott staggered back a couple feet, and actual felt the impact of the elf's bare foot through his platemail armor. "It would seem I've underestimated you. I won't repeat that mistake again."

"You're biggest mistake was failing to kill me when I was child." Rajmael growled with hatred in his voice, turning to face his enemy with his bladed staff held ready. "Now, you'll never get a chance to correct that mistake."

"My life has been dedicated to ridding the world of blasphemers like you in the Maker's name! I have slain dozens of maleficar and heretics like you and parents!" Dermott declared furiously and attacked the object of his scorn with twenty years of unmitigated hatred.

Rajmael blocked Dermott's weapon and gave the Templar a mocking smile. "Oh? And how strong did you get by chasing down defenseless children who couldn't fight back, or cutting down a single runaway mage with ten other Templars backing you up? Here in the wild, I've gotten stronger every day since you murdered my parents! All you've gotten is older and ugly!"

"Shut up! I'll kill you, just like I killed your parents!" Dermott yelled furiously.

The enraged the Templar attacked the heathen elf with every ounce of his hate and resentment. For twenty years he had lived in shame and humiliation for what this miserable traitor to the Maker had put him through. He would not be mocked, nor denied his rightful vengeance. He hammered his sword down on Rajmael with all his might, trying to cut the elf down in a single stroke, but he kept evading and deflecting all of Dermott's attacks, agitating and infuriating him even further.

Rajmael wasn't the scared little boy he was the last time he and Dermott met all those years ago. The Templar's anger and training was nothing compared to all the years of Keeper Deshanna's grueling and brutal training, all the sparring sessions with Nethras, and constantly being beaten down by Evanura. All the hardship and tribulations Rajmael had lived with ever since he joined Clan Lavellan had trained him to be strong. Compared to that, Dermott was nothing.

Rajmael's shimmering shield surrounded him, overpowering the Templar's ability to dampen his magic. Dermott couldn't under stand how this could be happening. The Maker was his strength, yet he couldn't lay a hit on this wretched heathen. The elf parried every attack Dermott made, then forced him on the defensive. Why couldn't he kill him? He brought his sword down on Rajmael with all his might, but it was all in vain. Dermott's weapon passed through his enemy like he was made out of air, what unholy magic was this?

Rajmael attacked the wretched Templar with everything he had. Every strike Rajmael made against the man who stole his life was fueled by the memory of his mother and father's severed heads, and the pain of being set on fire at the stake. As a child, Rajmael chose not to seek vengeance, but tonight he would have justice for what this evil man did him, his family, and his clan.

Rajmael lunged his bladed staff like a spear at the Templar's head, Dermott deflected the attack, but left himself wide open on his blindside. Rajmael quickly closed the distance between himself and his opponent and planted his fist into the Templar's chestplate, leaving an imprint of his fist in it. Just as quickly, Dermott brought his sword down on the elf and tried to split his head open; Rajmael backflipped to a safe distance from the Templar's weapon. Dermott resumed a fighting stance to re-engage his opponent, but Rajmael just smiled at him mockingly and pointed to the fist shaped dent he left in Dermott's armor. Dermott realized far too late that hitting him was never the elf's goal: leaving a lightning rune on his armor was. The rune exploded on Dermott's chest, ripping his armor apart and sent him whirling through the air onto his back.

Dermott's armor was ripped open, leaving a massive, black burn mark on his chest. Dermott used his sword to stagger to his feet, his whole body was wracked with pain he could barely see straight, but still refused to fail in his mission and let this filthy heathen defeat him. His anger pushed all thoughts of failure from his mind and all feelings of pain from his body. He would destroy this maleficar no matter the cost.

"You filthy knife-eared maleficar bastard!" Dermott cursed furiously while he tried to get back to his feet into fighting stance. "Your soul is damned, like the rest of these heathens! I'm going to make you scream for mercy, just like your putrid, cowardly parents did before I chopped their heads off!"

Rajmael finally snapped at the Templar's last comment. He would not let this coward dishonor the memory of his parents any longer. Rajmael angrily gripped his bladed staff and conjured an ethereal blade, and sent it straight at Templar's ugly, scarred head. Dermott screamed in horrible agony, and fell to the ground, rolling and cursing in utter rage. Instead of killing him, Rajmael's ethereal blade plucked Dermott's remaining eye right out of his head.

"AAAAAGHHHHHHH! YOU WHORESON! YOU DISGUSTING HEATHEN! YOU'VE BLINDED ME!" Dermott howled with more loathsome hate than pain. He held his sword tightly and swung it around his newfound darkness in the pointless hope of killing the elf that stole his eye. "I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! MAKER DAMN YOU!"

"You deserve a worse fate than this, but it will suffice." Rajmael condemned as held Dermott's detached eye in the palm of his hand, and squashed it like a grape. He took a brief moment to watch Dermott scream in pain and swing his sword at the air in vain. Rajmael then turned his back on the man who murdered his parents and left to go help Evanura fight off the rest of the Templars. At the point, she had cut their numbers down severely.

Dermott wasn't finished yet. Blinded and injured as he was, he would still complete his holy mission. He still had his trump card, should these heathens have overpowered the righteous with their pagan savagery. His hand blindly grasped around his pouch searching for the key to his victory and found what felt like a thick candle with a long wick. It was exactly what he was looking for. Dermott held the wick towards himself and yanked it hard. He felt the candle explode in his hand and make a loud, high-pitched whistle rise into the air, and he knew his victory was complete.

Rajmael heard a loud whistling splitting through the air and saw a bright red ball of light rising above the tree line. Someone had lit some kind of signal flare. He looked up towards the hill over the nearby hill over looking the forest, and felt his heart sink into dread and horror at what he saw there.

"Creators, please, be merciful." Evanura desperately prayed.

~XoXoXo~

Nethras fired several more arrows at the Templar and killed several more of them dead on the spot. At this point, there were so many dead Templars on the ground, those that remained were now tripping over the corpses of their brethren. Keeper Deshanna's wall of thorns held strong against the attacking Templars, and gave the hunters the edge they needed to continuously hail them with arrows. The sylvan's the Keeper summoned also dealt a great deal of damage to the Templars; as durable as the forest and possessing the elves vengeful hatred for these intruders. Some Templars thought it was a good idea to set the sylvans on fire, but all that did was make them even angrier, and now the sylvan could burn Templars before stomping on them.

A sense of victory washed over Nethras and the rest of his fellow Dalish when the Templars ceased their attack and retreated back whence they came. All of them cheered and felt the danger was over, they had saved their clan. All feelings of victory and accomplishment quickly died when Nethras looked behind them towards the hill overlooking the forest. The entire hillside was illuminated by fire. Fire lit on the arrows and ballistae of the Templars, and they were aiming them where Rajmael led the young and the sick.

"Evanura! Eva!" Nethras yelled in terror for his family, and ran over to them had led them as fast as he could. "Mythal, Andruil, please, let me reach them!"

~XoXoXo~

The night sky burned with light as the Templars shot their flaming arrows and ballistae from their hilltop, raining fire and death down on the elves below. The flames fanned while the missiles whistled and the elves screamed in panic and terror, filling the forest with a burning song of death. At hearing such a wonderful symphony, Dermott laughed victoriously, despite the horrible pain he was in. The flames of the righteous would purge these filthy heathens from the world. Dermott would go into the afterlife knowing he did the Maker's work. Dermott's laughter and self-righteous adulation came to an abrupt and final end when one of the flaming bolts from the ballistae speared him through the chest and pinned him to the ground, sending him to the Maker's judgment.

Evanura and Rajmael ran back towards the campsite desperately crying out for Ariva, Eva, and the others while the forest burned around them and arrows flew past them. For Rajmael, it was like reliving that moment when he was burned on the stake. For Evanura, it was her worst nightmare come to life. Her daughter lost somewhere in this damned forest, her life in danger, it was enough to rob Evanura of her heart. But she had to keep going, had to save her daughter. The most sacred duty of a mother was protecting their child, and Evanura would not fail in this.

"Mother! Eva!" Rajmael shouted over the roaring flames that were consuming the trees.

"Eva, please answer me!" Evanura desperately cried.

"Rajmael? Evanura! Over here!" Ariva yelled through the fire.

Cassandra and the others watched as the two elven warriors ran towards the voice of the Clan Healer, and found their missing clanmates, much to their own horror. A good number of them laid dead on the ground, their bodies riddled with the arrows from the Templars' volleys and burning from the fire. The horrid stench of burning flesh filled the, along with the desperate, scared cries of the da'len, and those chocking on the acrid smoke from the fire. Cassandra felt angry at everything she was seeing. Rajmael, Evanura and Nethras did everything they could to protect these people, only for many of them to have been shot down by these disgraceful Templars' cowardice.

Despite their losses, many of them were still alive. Cassandra shared Evanura's relief to see Eva unharmed. Evanura scooped her baby into her arms and held her closely, weeping tears of relief to see her child safe.

"Oh, my baby! My baby, thank Mythal you're safe." Evanura cried.

Eva hugged her mother as close as she could, never wanting to let go. "Mama! I was so scared. Please, can we go home?"

"Rajmael, we need to get the rest of our people out of here before the fire spreads too far." Ariva instructed her son. She was obviously worn out to the point of collapsing. "I've used too much of my mana. I can't conjure any powerful spells."

"We need to hurry. Those Templars might come back to finish the job." Rajmael said worriedly. He looked to the sky, hoping to see the stars so they could get their bearing and find a way out of here. Instead, what he saw up there was even brighter than the stars, and infinitely more foreboding that it filled Rajmael's heart with dread. "Everyone, get down!"

All of them did as Rajmael ordered and dropped to the ground as another volley of flaming arrows and ballistae bolts came falling down on them. Ariva's magic was too far spent to raise a barrier to protect them. Rajmael placed himself in front of his clanmats and used his bladed staff to deflect as many of the arrows and bolts as he could. But there was just too many of them, even for him. Eventually, some of them would get past him. Until Evanura stood at his side, the Enasalin in her hands, and Rajmael knew they had a chance.

The two elven warriors deflected the oncoming volley of flaming missiles with devastating results. With Rajmael's powerful magic and Evanura's incredible speed and accuracy, the two of them kept knocking the arrows and bolts right out of the air. They would not allow any more harm to their clan.

The Templars knew where the elves were now, and fired another volley down on them. They saw that their brethren who were attacking the camp had now retreated, so they fired as many of their arrows as fast as they could. They could at least finish these ones off before retreating themselves.

Another volley flew towards the pinned down elves, the largest of any of the attacks. Rajmael and Evanura summoned all their willpower to stop this final assault. Their weapons hummed through the air as they cut down every arrow that was coming at them with such speed their blades could barely be seen. Rajmael's power came from his magic, while Evanura's came from her own strength of will and inborn talent. To watch these two in motion was an honor for anyone who studied the martial arts, for they were both true masters of their disciplines.

The last of the arrows was finally cut down, and Rajmael felt a sense of victory well up inside him. The battle had completely drained his magic, but it was worth it. The Templars were finally retreating, and they were able to protect their clan. Evanura fell to a knew, panting heavily. This battle had taken a lot out of her.

"Rajmael...did we save everyone? Was I fast enough? Is my daughter alright?" Evanura asked, practically pleaded. She dared not even look for herself for fear of the answer.

Rajmael looked behind them to see his mother holding her granddaughter. Eva was scared more than she had ever been in her life, but otherwise she was unharmed. "She's fine, Evanura. Everyone's fine. Your daughter and our clan is safe."

Evanura smiled that bright, beautiful smile of hers when she saw that her baby was safe and whole. "My precious da'vhenan...safe..."

All feelings of relief, victory and safety shriveled and died inside Rajmael when he saw Evanura collapse to the ground with a Templar's arrow in her chest, bleeding badly.

"Maker, no!" Cassandra cried out painfully, as if she was living this memory herself.

"Evanura!" Rajmael screamed in terror.

"Mama? Mama!" Eva pulled herself from Ariva's grasp and ran to her mother's side. She tried to wake up Evanura, hoping that her mother was just tired. "Mama! Mama! Please, wake up! Wake up, Mama!"

"NO! EVANURA!" Nethras screamed when he finally arrived only to discover his daughter trying to wake his unconscious wife with an arrow piercing her body. He was too late. He rushed to his wife's side and picked her unconscious body up in his arms, desperately looking to his mother. "Mother, please! Can't you save her?"

"Our magic is all spent, Nethras, and all my healing supplies are back at the camp. We need to get her back there, and to Keeper Deshanna. She might be able to help her." Ariva instructed her son. She tried to put more pressure on Evanura's wound, praying that her apprentice and daughter-in-law could be saved.

As Cassandra watched helplessly as a pained tear fell from her eye. She knew how this tale would end, but seeing it for herself made her heartbreak. Never before had she felt so ashamed. How often had she said without a shadow of doubt in her heart that the Chantry was so important to Thedas, that it was necessary for there to be peace in Thedas. Yet at the same time, she neglected the victims the Chantry left behind. Not once, not until she met Rajmael, did she ever consider the plight of the elves, how much they had suffered, how much the Chantry had wronged them. Andraste fought just as much for the freedom of the elves as she did her own, yet the Chantry beat them down and erased their history, no different than the Imperium Andraste fought against. Seeing this memory made Cassadra feel ashamed to wear the Chantry Sunburst.

Cassandra didn't want to see anymore. Couldn't bring herself to. She just wanted so badly for it to end and just leave this place.

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael's whole family was back at the camp, anxiously waiting outside the Keeper's tent. The battle with the Templars had taken its toll on their campsite, almost everything was in disarray. All of them waited in desperate silence as the Keeper tended to Evanura inside. Junnarel and Ariva were trying to comfort Eva, who continued to cry for her mother. Rajmael knelt before the totems of the Creators, desperately praying for Evanura's life. Nethras leaned against a tree in painful silence. Feelings of anger, loss and desperation burning inside him like a bonfire as he hoped and waited for news on his wife.

After what felt like an eternity, Keeper Deshanna finally emerged from the tent. Nethras quickly rushed to her, desperate for any word.

"Keeper, is Evanura alright? Have you healed her?" Nethras begged.

Deshanna lowered her head in shame, and wished with all her heart and soul she could have given Nethras the answer he wanted. "I am so sorry, Nethras. Evanura was wounded near the heart and she has lost too much blood. I've used what magic I have left to try and heal the wound, but it's still too great. I've healed her enough for you to have last words with her. I am sorry couldn't do more."

Nethras felt his heart break inside him when the Keeper told him this. It didn't feel real. Evanura was his soulmate, a part of who he was. He couldn't imagine his life without her, didn't want to. He rushed into the Keeper's tent and found his wife laying down inside with that welcoming smile she always gave him.

"Hello, Nethras." Evanura greeted lovingly, but so very tired. Like she could close her eyes at any moment.

"Hello, ma vhenan." Nethras said, trying to stay strong and fight back his tears.

"How's Eva?" Evanura asked sadly.

"She wants her mother. She needs you now, Evanura." Nethras answered with vain hope.

Tears of sadness painted Evanura's face at the thought of her baby. "And I want to be with her, too. I want that more than anything. If only wishing would make it true."

"It can be, Evanura. You're strong, you're a magnificent healer, you can pull through this." Nethras pleaded.

"Oh, Nethras, I wish I could make that happen, but I feel Falon'din pulling me away." Evanura wept sorrowfully. "I always imagined we would make the Great Journey together. See our child grow up, have children of her own. But I'll gladly give my life if it means she can live."

"No! Evanura, please, stay with me! I love you, you're everything to me!" Nethras begged tearfully.

Her husband's please were all in vain. Evanura could feel her eyes growing heavy and her life slipping away. "Nethras...promise me...promise me our daughter will live a better life than we did. I wish...Eva...could live in a better world. Please...give her that."

Nethras held his wife's hand tightly in his, never wanting to let go. "You are our world. Eva needs you. I need you."

"Be strong...ma...vhenan..." Evanura's hand slipped from Nethras' as the light left her beautiful green eyes and life left her vibrant being.

"No...No! Evanura, please, don't leave me! I can't do this without you! Andruil, Mythal, Falon'din, all Creators, please, bring her back to me!" Nethras begged, his tears burning his face as he desperately cried her name. Painful sobs wracked Nethras' body as he held his beloved wife's body close to him, his tears falling on her face. He closed her beautiful eyes and kissed her one last time with a promise on his lips and hatred in his eyes. "I swear in your name, Evanura, I will grant your wish. I will give our daughter a better world to live in. Your life will not have been in vain, I swear it."

That's when Cassandra and the rest of them saw it. With his wife's death, something died inside Nethras and something else woke in its place. He rose from his wife's body with that look of utter bloodlust and hatred burning in his eyes. That's when they truly recognized Nethras Lavellan. The man who became Vir Banal'ras and sought to wipe out the human race for what it did to him, his family, his entire people.

Nethras emerged from the Keeper's tent, his eyes were hollow and bleak, as if all traces of life were gone from him, and only his anger and rage burned inside him.

Ariva and Junnarel tried to comfort their son, but their words fell on deaf ears, and he just kept walking past them.

Rajmael dared not speak to his brother for he was far too ashamed. Like Nethras, his heart was also broken, for he loved Evanura as much as his brother did, even if she never returned his feelings. All he could do was mourn her, and pray that she was at peace. With Evanura's death, just like with Nethras, a part of Rajmael's soul died with her.

"Papa? Papa? Where's Mama?" Eva asked tearfully, looking for comfort from her father.

Nethras looked down at his daughter with overwhelming sorrow and shame. He knelt down and hugged her closely, letting Eva cry on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, my precious gift. I failed you. But I'm going to make this right. For your mother, and for you."

Nethras let go of his daughter and walked over to his parents' tent, his former home. It had been a lifetime since he had felt like that's what it was. But he wasn't there for old memories, he was there for something older and infinitely more dangerous. When he emerged from the tent, Nethras was carrying something with him. A large sickle with a double-edged crescent shaped blade, and attacked to the end of the handle was a long chain with a spearheaded weight at the end of it. Everyone, onlookers and memories alike recognized this weapon. It was a bora'nan, the weapon of the Vir Banal'ras.

At the sight of that terrible weapon, Keeper Deshanna knew what Nethras was doing, and she had to stop him. "Nethras, please. I know what you're thinking, and I'm begging you not do this. Now is not the time for vengeance, it's time to mourn and rebuild."

Nethras ignored his Keeper's pleas and pushed past her. "Mourn and rebuild? All our people have been doing for thousands of years if mourn, but never rebuild. I'm done mourning for what we've lost."

"I loved Evanura too, brother, but this won't bring her back." Rajmael pleaded, but Nethras kept walking. "Nethras, please. You need to think of Eva right now. Evanura wouldn't want this!"

Nethras furiously planted his fist straight into Rajmael's face and knocked him to the ground, with his face twisted with rage. "Shut up! This is all your fault! You brought this on us because you thought the humans would act with honor! Evanura, Arren, everyone who's died here is dead because of your foolishness! I will not let this crime go unpunished, and you have no right stop me!"

Junnarel tried to reason with his son, but Nethras ran out to the forest and disappeared into the darkness. Even with Eva crying out for her father, he did not return. Rajmael knew Evanura's death was hurting his brother, just as it was hurting him, but he couldn't let his brother just abandon their clan, his daughter. Not when they needed him the most, especially Eva. He had to get Nethras back.

~XoXoXo~

It took Junnarel and Rajmael a week to try and find Nethras, all in the hopes of deterring him from the dark path he had set on, and to save him from joining the rest of their slain comrades. Nethras was a master hunter, better than his father, even. If he didn't want to be found, then they weren't going to find him. Instead, they followed the trail of Nethras' prey: the Templars. Many of them retreated from the battle and scattered back to where ever it was they came from. Nethras would try to catch them before they reached any human settlements.

It wasn't until they were halfway to Starkhaven did they finally find traces of Nethras. They followed the signs closely to the trail the Templars left behind before they arrived. They were gaining on him. And when they finally did, Rajmael fell to his knees and cried out in anguish and sorrow when they finally discovered what happened to his beloved brother. All they found was Nethras' incinerated body surrounded by the slain corpses of the Templars responsible for Evanura's death. His body was so badly burned they only recognized him by the wedding band Evanura had given him. Nethras had suffered the fate Rajmael was condemned to as a child, and paid the price for his vengeance as his father had predicted.

Ramael tried to maintain his composure, as an Arcane Warrior should, but no amount of discipline or code of conduct could bury the sorrow and guilt inside him. He tearfully covered his brother's body and placed him on Neirin's back. As his brother, Rajmael had to get him back to Clan Lavellan. Nethras deserved to be buried and mourned by those who loved. But what truly tore Rajmael inside was a single question that threatened to rip his heart apart: what was he going to tell Eva?

The Inquisitor's companions watched this tragic memory play out before them. It was a horrible day for Rajmael, but they already learned the truth. How Nethras had faked his own death by planting his wedding ring on a slain elven apostate that the Templars killed so his clan wouldn't look for him. Then he was in turn captured by the Templars who murdered his wife. It was from this tragedy the Nethras they knew was born. The elf who was so consumed by his hate and anger at the humans for what they did to his family and clan that he launched a campaign to commit genocide on the human race. Despite how heinous his plan was, no one could say that Nethras' actions weren't justified. It was the same thing humans had done to the elves for thousands of years. What was done to his family was just another crime on the infinite list of mankind's wrongdoings.

~XoXoXo~

The next night, Clan Lavellan held a funeral for their fallen brothers and sisters. As was their custom, they buried their dead and planted a vhenadhal tree over their graves, so that their memories might live on. Everyone felt sorrow, all of them had lost someone to this tragedy. For many years Deshanna Istimaethoriel had been Keeper of Clan Lavellan, yet never in her whole life had she presided over so many dead clanmates at one time. The most difficult part of being a Keeper was guiding her clan through heartbreak and tragedy. Every member of this clan were all her children, they should have been burying her, not the other way around. Yet, she had to remain strong and try to continue to guide protect those that were left. How Deshanna wished to all the Creators that they would show mercy to their fallen people.

Deshanna tried to speak the words of Uthenera with a strong face, and tried so hard not to cry, even though every thing inside her was weeping with sorrow. "Ma vhen melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas. Souver'inan isala hamin. Vhenan him dor'felas. In uthenera na revas. Vir sulahn'nehn. Vir dirthera. Vir samahl la numin. Vir lath sa'vunin. Elder your time is come. Now I am filled with sorrow. Weary eyes need resting. Heart has become grey and slow. In waking sleep is freedom. We sing, rejoice. We tell the tales. We laugh and cry. We love one more day. Dareth shiral."

"Dareth shiral." The clan ended mournfully.

As the clan said their farewells and left final offerings to their loved ones, Ariva and Junnarel stood over the graves of Nethras and Evanura. Junnarel held his wife closely as she cried into his chest and joined in her grief. No parent should ever have to outlive their child, and no child should ever be left without a parent. Junnarel remembered the day his son was born, the day he received his vallaslin, and when Nethras was married. All of those day were the happiest and proudest of his life, and Junnarel would have gladly traded his own life so that his son might have shared those experiences with his child. Instead, Nethras and his wife were ruthlessly taken from them. The world was truly cruel to the elven people.

Cassandra felt her heart truly break at what she and the others were bearing witness to. This was nothing like Junnarel's funeral for he died carrying out his duty valorously. To see all this death and tragedy done purely for nothing more than the sake of bigotry and ignorance wrenched at Cassandra's soul. All these lives snuffed out, all these lives ruined for nothing. She had never seen Rajmael so broken, even when they learned the truth about his gods, and he never even realized that he had buried a stranger next to Evanura. Now, Cassandra truly understood why Nethras did what he had done, what truly made him the man he became. He was not born a religious fanatic, or a genocidal madman. He was a man whose spirit was broken by those with power, when the Chantry allowed their crimes to go unpunished.

Rajmael stood away from the rest of his clan and watched as his parents mourned over Evanura and Nethras' graves. If his tears had been rain, he would have flooded the ocean. His heart was filled not only with grief, but also with horrible shame. He had lost his brother and the only woman he had ever loved, and many clanmates all because he was stupid enough to believe in human decency. Nethras, Evanura, Arren, and many others were snuffed out, and it was all Rajmael's fault. He brought this tragedy unto his clan, and all of them paid the price for his idiocy. How could he live with the shame of knowing he had brought so much pain to his people? How could he go through life without the two people he loved most?

Rajmael looked at Nethras and Evanura's grave and felt his shame and grief beginning to give way to purest anger. First his parents, now his brother and the woman he loved more than anything. Was there nothing the fucking humans and their wretched religion didn't take from his people?! It was bad enough they robbed his people of their homeland for a second time and forced them to either live in poverty of in the wilderness like vagabonds, yet the Chantry continued to take more. First they murdered his birth parents and scarred him for life, no they've murdered the only people who made his life feel like it had any meaning!

That's when everyone, especially Cassandra, saw it. That same cauldron of rage that burned inside Nethras now threatened to boil over inside Rajmael. His fists clenched hatefully, and everything inside him told him to finish what his brother started. Take everything back from the humans, like they took everything from him. Kill them all for the crimes they committed against his family, there wasn't shemlen in all of Thedas who didn't deserve it!

Then, just as his anger reached it's peak, Rajmael felt a small, warm hand grab his clenched fist. Rajmael looked down and saw Eva looking up at him with her mother's eyes, all filled with tears and sadness.

"Rajmael? What...what's going to happen to me now? What do I do without my Mama and Papa?" Eva asked tearfully.

Seeing those beautiful green eyes filled with such sorrow and fear woke something in Rajmael he thought had died, and all traces of his anger vanished. Eva was exactly like he was almost twenty years ago. A scared, lonely child robbed of her life before it started, desperately looking for guidance and care. That was when Rajmael knew his path, and it didn't start with the dead.

Rajmael knelt down to Eva, wiped the tears from her eyes, and held her close like how her parents would have. "You still have me, da vhenan. You will always have me. I promise."

Eva hugged herself into Rajmael's chest and cried until she had no more tears left to shed. Cassandra wept as the memory of this day finally faded into blackness. She now understood the true significance of this memory, why it meant so much to Rajmael. It was how he lost a two of his loved ones, but gained a daughter. It was the day Rajmael became a father.

Meanwhile, At An Unknown Location...

Tallis could take no more of this. She couldn't stand idly by and let Isskari just torture a young girl for information just because her step-father was a threat. The Qunari were supposed to be better than that! No child, mage or not, deserved to be treated this way. Tallis wasn't going to sit on her ass any longer. She decided to bring this matter directly to the Viddasala and make her see the injustice in this. Surely, as a leading member of the Ben-Hessrath and an agent of the Ariqun, the Viddsala would see the unjust cruelty in all of this.

Tallis knocked several times on the Vidasala's office door and announced herself loudly. "Honored Viddasala, this is Tallis. I request permission to speak with you concerning the parameters of my mission with the Inquisitor's daughter."

There was no answer from the other side of the door. Strange. Even if the Viddasala didn't want to speak with Tallis, should have said so. Ignoring the breach in protocol, Tallis opened the door and peered inside, discovering that it was empty. Instead of ignoring her inborn curiosity, which had landed in trouble many times before, Tallis futher ignored protocol and stepped inside the Viddasala's office.

The room was littered with various magical objects and artifacts. A dragon skull, enchanted items from the Imperium, even some elven relics excavated from the ruins they had discovered in the eluvians. Each artifact was tagged with a catalogue that stated what the object was exactly, what its purpose was, and the level of danger it posed.

There was one item in particular that caught Tallis' attention. A massive chest sealed tight with a very complicated lock and secured by very heavy chains. Whatever was in that chest, the Viddasala wanted to make sure no one could get inside it. When Tallis approached it, she felt a terrible sense of foreboding coming from whatever was inside, and it made her feel afraid. Like a mouse being stared down by a lion. She quickly stepped away from the chest and whatever forbidden object was inside it.

Tallis should have known better and left everything well enough alone, but the clandestine nature of their mission made her curiosity run even deeper. Out of all the objects and artifacts that littered the Viddasala's office, there was something in particular that caught Tallis' attention. An envelope, with the seal of the Ariqun on it. That was nothing odd, after all, the Viddasala did answer directly to the Ariqun. What was strange, however, was that the envelope also held the seal of the Inquisition, and was addressed to their ambassador.

Ignoring every bit of common sense and qunari prerogative that told her to leave well enough alone, Tallis grabbed the envelope and read the contents of the letter. Her eyes went wide with shock and disbelief when she realized the nature of this letter, what it truly meant not only for the Viddasala, but everyone here. Tallis knew what she needed to do, and there was no question that it was the right thing. For once, Tallis would not be in conflict with her conscience.

Language Codex:

Aneth'ara: Elven social greeting.

Da'len: Elven. Translates as "Child".

Dirth'ena Enasalin: Elven. Translates as "Knowledge The Leads To Victory".

Enasalin: Elven. Translates as "Victory".

Vallasling: Elven tattooing. Translates as "Blood Writing."

Eva, da'len tir sulahn'nehn, Ar las enansal Mytha...l: Elven blessing. Translates as "Eva, child of joy, I bestow the blessing of Mythal, etc."

Vir Tanadhal: Elven. Translates as "The Path of Three Tree".

Vir Banal'ras: Elven. Translates as "The Path of Shadows."

Ma vhenan: Elven term of endearment. Translates as "My Heart".

Bora'nan: Elven sickle-shaped weapon. Translates as "Flying Vengeance".

Viddasala: Qunari rank. Translates as "One Who Converts Purpose."

Ariqun: Head of Qunari spirituality.

~Author's Note~

Alright! So here it is, the last chapter of the Path of Memory Arc!

Sorry I was a little late in finishing it. As you can imagine, I was kept a bit busy on the home front.

Now we're really reaching into the final stretch of this story, and I'm going to give it every last bit of energy I have to make sure it's done right.

Please, I beg you, review and tell me what you think. A lot of time and effort went into these chapters and I want to know how I did.